


Finding the Light

by Moragh33 (Moraghh33)



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:46:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1543085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moraghh33/pseuds/Moragh33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 4.11, AU H.G.'s POV, having rejoined the team after the world was saved yet again. Seriously, writing an interesting summary is hard. This is my first fanfic, tell me what's good and what needs work. Join me with your Bering and Wells aches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: like pretty much everyone else on here, I own nothing but wishful thinking.

**Finding the Light**

Chapter 1

I was beginning to wonder if things would ever return to their normal state. Obviously, the definition of normality is a matter of some consequence for such a statement so let me explain what I mean. When I had first come back to the Warehouse, before anyone other than myself could be accused of true madness, there had been a glorious general atmosphere of joviality, only occasionally marred by the dark clouds of fear; it is this atmosphere by which I am defining my 'normality'. But after the Astrolabe, after Leena, the air became filled with deep and smothering loss, loss and grief and pain and underneath it all was poor Artie's inescapable sense of guilt. Oh we all know very well that he was no more guilty than any person under the influence of an artefact has ever been; even he began to at least admit the intellectual truth of his innocence, but actually feeling its truth is another matter altogether. Apparently guilt can eat away at you, no matter how illogical it is.

Mrs. Frederick, our ever solid rock of reassurance (and occasional terror, I might add in private), began to be a bit more present, popping out of nowhere on a more regular basis. I think she was trying to ground us all again, bring the team back down to earth before the whirling winds of grief could carry anyone too far away. Jane Lattimer was also a welcome presence for the most part, and I could see the positive effect she had on her son with every visit. 'Time is a healer' is what they were telling everyone, and I did find it interesting to see the different reactions amongst the team to such a statement. Artie seemed to accept it but reluctantly, as if holding onto hope that he would not heal; grief and guilt can be very convincing in their endeavours to assure you that you do not deserve to ever be healed. Steve would nod sagely, accepting his own powerlessness; the boy's wisdom in matters of substance is certainly far beyond his years. Pete, ever the optimist, grasped willingly onto the hope offered; I must admit that his determined positivity is a trait to be admired. Shock and confusion and a wish for time to 'just get on and heal us already' was Claudia's general attitude; I think she was still uncertain how to swim those deep waters of grief, especially knowing that there was no metronome for Leena.

And Myka? Dear Myka. She would just glance at me, her lovely green eyes filled with concern as if she knew the thought that tripped through my mind: there are some wounds that time alone cannot heal.

My own particular wounds had long ago left me with the nasty habit of waking suddenly from that dread reality, the nightmare of the past. The versions vary but the effect is the same: sweat, confusion, terror and the awful moment when all is clarified and I remember that the dream is in fact a memory. Depending on how in control of my faculties I am by this point, tears tend to follow if they have not already manifested as I sleep; my endeavours to keep them silent lack consistency in their success. One thing that is truly constant however, is my fulfilment of the oft-incorrect American stereotype of the British: tea is my ever faithful comfort.

And so it was, several weeks or so after things had gotten back near enough to some semblance of a normal routine, with all agents having been put back on 'active duty' as it were (somehow, myself included), I found myself trudging lightly down the stairs in search of tea, exhaustion battling my fear of waking the other house inhabitants. I had made such a post-dream trip enough times in the past to succeed without the aid of a light source, but it took my sleep hindered mind longer than usual to process the fact that detecting a dim light coming from the lounge meant I was probably not the only conscious person in the B&B this night.

"Myka?" I called softly as I discovered her prone form on the sofa, stretched out with a book open under the side lamp. I crept a step or two closer into the silence and saw that my slowly drawn conclusions had, in fact, been false as she was certainly no longer conscious. One arm was bent under her head, the other held a cushion to her chest, her hand splayed out across the book's page. My eyes skimmed a few lines and I felt a jolt of unexpected familiarity as my own words stood out from the page.  _Ann Veronica_ , how entertaining and frustrating had that novel been to write.

Before I could stop myself, I found my eyes beginning to wander back to the book's owner, across the sculpted planes of her face with its delicate skin and full lips, along her smooth jaw line and down the column of her throat, the beat of a steady pulse there capturing me for a moment as I waged a fierce war against the urge to look further at places my eyes were not invited to look. Never has a war been fought so hard with less desire to win. I forced my reluctant self to back away, but soon rediscovered the fact that turmoil is not the friend of gracefulness or spatial awareness. I crashed backwards over the coffee table, letting out a very undignified yelp, landing in a very undignified heap and responding to Myka's startled question with a very undignified 'ow'.

"Helena?" her confused and slightly incredulous voice floated gently across the room toward me, fatigue rounding its edges in a way that made my stomach clench pleasantly. This was nothing to the effect on my insides produced by the slow spreading smile which then began to stretch across her face and the tiny low giggle that escaped as her now awake brain caught up with the fact that I was in my undignified heap on the floor. "Are you ok?" She appeared now to be fighting her own battle, concern vs. mirth, but I think she fought a great deal less fiercely than I had.

"Uh," unfortunately my rapture at the beauty of her smile and the wicked kindness of her eyes had distracted me from the wisdom of thinking up any form of appropriate explanation for my current circumstance. "I, uh, just came to get some tea, darling. Nothing to worry about, sorry I woke you." Trying for the standard H.G. Wells nonchalance in that scenario really wasn't my best idea ever. And I really didn't think through the consequences of that response.

"What time is -? Why are you getting tea at three in the morning?" Genuine concern started to edge into her eyes as the Myka Bering Brain of Logic quickly arrived at the fact that this wasn't a normal person's usual hour for caffeine based liquid refreshment. She'd sat up by this point and was soon leaning toward me, squinting intently; I realised with a sigh that it was more than possible that evidence of my dream-induced tears still stained my face. Her gaze softened and I turned, not wanting her to see, not wanting her to feel the burden of my past in her already burdened present. I pushed myself to my feet, attempting to subtly rub my face clean in the process and summoned up the best self-possessed H.G. Wells smile I could find.

"Just a little thirsty, darling." I turned back to her, ramping the 'roguish charm' as high as I could get it. "I simply got a little distracted when I found you here, arranged so elegantly on the couch with-"

"Helena, cut the crap," she interrupted me suddenly. Apparently she'd decided to stop letting me believe she couldn't see right through my many bravados. As she rose and padded around the coffee table towards me, I detected a slight blush forming on her cheeks but I couldn't tell whether it was from addressing me so abruptly or from embarrassment that I'd caught her with one of my books. "Look, I can see you've been crying and I want you to know that that's ok. I want you to know that if you want to talk or if you want to just sit together and be quiet or you want a shoulder to do your crying on then that's ok. The only thing that's not ok is you pretending that you're fine." I opened my mouth to object, but soon discovered that that was a pointless endeavour.

"You know," she continued, her voice gentle again, "the reason I'm down here on the couch is that I couldn't sleep because all the crap of the last few months had just caught up with me. I couldn't deal with being in my room anymore so I came down here and I brought one of your books, because they're one of my greatest comforts, especially now that I know the person who wrote them." She paused, her olive green eyes searching me out and holding me still. "You and your books have always been there for me, evidently helping my mind to settle enough to catch some sleep tonight; let me be there for you." I felt her hands gently seek me out, sliding down my arms until they gripped my fingers.

How wondrous a creature is she? How wondrous a sight to behold, Myka Bering 'cutting through the crap' of the persona I think I've mastered. How terrifying and awe-inspiring and altogether holy. She cuts to the quick of me and I beseech any deities that will listen to let her always be there to do so.

I tried to maintain my regular breathing pattern as I felt the tears I thought I'd banished rise again, spilling over and shattering upon my cheeks. I closed my eyes, unable to bear the sight of her blurred by my own liquid grief, and gave up all my tense attempts to hold it in as I felt her arms surround me, holding me gently to her. Her grip tightened about my shoulders and I realised it was in response to my own arms having made their way around her waist, apparently without instruction. I made a mental note to thank them later and then realised the absurdity of such a thought. I think, perhaps, I can be forgiven an absurd thought or two in a moment like that however, a moment where the surreal nature of unexpected wish-fulfilment made me wonder if my brain had somehow been taught again the path to good dreams, whilst at the same time my body shook with sobs muffled in the hollow at her collar bone, the strength of her arms around me allowing release of some of the pressure that had built again in my chest.

She held me for the next eternity of ten minutes as my composure completely vanished and my tense body was allowed to let go of some of its stress. She never removed her arms from around me, keeping that comforting pressure constant, even as her hands moved. One found its way to my hair, stroking soothingly from my crown to the base of my skull; the other caressed my shoulder, firmly squeezing and drawing down to the shoulder blade and back up again. All the while her honeyed voice was in my ear whispering encouragement to let it out, that is was ok, that she was there, that she wasn't going anywhere as long as I needed her, that she'd got me.

She kept up her soothing ministrations as my weeping eventually began to subside, for which I was glad and not only because I wasn't sure my suddenly deeply exhausted body could actually be relied upon to stand by itself. The feeling of her strong arms around me, her hand in my hair, the warmth of her body encompassing me and the soft indefinable scent of her, maybe vanilla and some other balmily sweet thing that I could never put my finger on; this was the stuff of dreams. And not the historical nightmares of the dark, but the kind of dream that the waking mind conjures in moments it has spare, a dream made purely of things we actually, consciously yearn and ache for.

"I am sorry," my voice squeaked as I tried for some levity, "I appear to have made rather a damp patch on your jumper." I heard her snuff of amusement and managed to meet her eye for a moment, finding almost more grace, more compassion, more of all the best parts of human emotion than I could bear for her to show me. She gently but firmly pulled me back to her, holding me tightly as a low chuckle rumbled through her.

"I think I'll probably cope with that." She gave me a final squeeze across my shoulders before slowly disengaging, almost as if she wanted to give me the opportunity to hold on to her, to make her stay. Although I knew there was nothing I would want more than to hold on to that embrace, I recognised that I was in no state to judge how far I could stretch my own self-control. She didn't release me completely, sliding one hand down my arm again until she could grip my hand in hers, lacing our fingers together, and led me back to the sofa, this time around the coffee table rather than over it. We sat quietly for a moment, hands still clasped together in her lap.

"Thank you." I spoke quietly, but apparently my vocal cords had decided to behave this time, inflicting no squeak.

"Any time." I felt her looking at me until I met her eye, and she raised an eyebrow as if to stress the point. "And I do mean that; I don't want to have to keep a night vigil on the sofa down here, but I will if you don't promise to come to me when you need to. Or want to."

"Myka-" I tried to protest, but-

"I'm serious, Helena," she dropped her gaze, those beautiful eyes choosing instead to study our interlocking fingers. "I hate that the universe has thrown so much crap at us, at you. I can't stand the thought of you trying to keep it all inside, not asking for help, not feeling like you can lean on me."

I could feel my heart rate skipping and swerving all over the place, but brought all the steely force of my walls up against any such behaviour as soon as possible. It was out of the question that the way I felt about Myka could be reciprocated now, not after all the crimes I had committed against her and all the evils of my past; it was surely not possible for any human to be so gracious. And yet I could not deny that she cared. Of course she cared though; Myka Bering is a creature of endless compassion, she would care for the woes of any person.

"Promise me," her demand interrupted my tumultuous musings, green eyes imploring.

"Myka, I," I paused, uncertain how to proceed.

"Helena." The warning tone in her voice brooked no argument but-

"I just, well, if you're going to make me promise that, you should know that this, this isn't a particularly unusual event." She stared at me, as if incredulous that I thought that would affect the sincerity of her desire to help me. "I mean that, bloody hell this shouldn't be so difficult to explain, but this, really, it-" I sighed. "I have nightmares. Often." Her look offered the question. "Most nights. Every night." I felt her hand grip mine tighter, her other hand coming over to cover it too.

"Can you tell me about them?" Her question was gentle, almost as if she was worried she'd break me with such a request.

"I," I paused, breathing deeply and focusing on the fact that she'd squeezed my hand again and was gently caressing my knuckles with her thumb. "They're memories mostly. Sometimes of being told that sh- that my Christina had been killed; most often of travelling back in time to occupy Sophy's mind – my repeatedly failed attempts to fight them off and then horrific memories of what I did to those men afterwards. Sometimes it's the bronzer, just endless lonely blackness filled with my own poisonous anger and sometimes," I hesitated but couldn't really stop at that point, "sometimes I remember Warehouse 2 and Yellowstone, or the terror of that moment when Sykes made me shoot at you and put you in the chair," my recovered vocal cords had apparently regressed again, as my voice began to crack. "And sometimes it's a jumbled mess of all of the above." I felt her shuffle toward me on the sofa, one hand coming to rest on my back, outlining slow soothing circles across my shoulders, exerting a gentle pressure to bring me closer, encouraging me to lean against her. I couldn't really believe that I was saying all of this, that she'd somehow managed to make me loose my tongue when I'd been so determined to keep it in check.

I almost jumped in shock when I felt the softest pressure applied gently to my temple, warm breath flowing with it. I was fairly certain that she'd just kissed me, but was slightly concerned that I may have been hallucinating or gotten in contact with some kind of wish fulfilment artefact.

The silence returned, broken only by the soft sounds of breathing and the slight rustle of her hand moving slowly across my back.

"I still want that promise," her voice was quiet, but it reverberated through me as she'd leant her head against mine. "I want to be there."

"Myka, I can't do that." Really her request was ridiculous. "I can't come knocking on your door every night at whatever ungodly hour my demons decide to strike and force you to share in my insomnia. I really appreciate that you want to help, I do, but-"

"You're not forcing me into anything, Helena; in case you hadn't noticed, I'm the one making demands here." She lifted her head, leaning back to look me in the eye. "I, for goodness' sake, I won't allow it," her tone high and unquestionable, as if this authority was clearly hers, "I won't allow you to be left to fight your 'demons' alone." She practically huffed in frustration as she looked up and away, shaking her head. "I couldn't bear the thought." Peering at her in the dim light, I thought I detected a slight shimmering in her eyes. Myka was almost crying. For me. She cleared her throat. "I need that promise. If it helps, I'm fairly certain that I won't be able to sleep without it now – I'll be sitting awake, listening for you."

"Myka-"

"I mean it," she almost laughed, as if she realised that she'd found the winning argument, "it'll be cruel of you not to promise me."

"You realise this is emotional blackmail?"

"As long as it works I don't care. And don't think you can get away with 'promising' with your fingers crossed or anything because I will get Steve to check you're not lying if tomorrow night you're 'miraculously cured' and 'sleep through the night'."

"Fingers crossed?"

"Ok, perhaps a little juvenile, but the principle remains!" There was a genuine, if reluctant, hint of amusement in her eyes now and I was glad, even if she had managed to corner me most effectively. Beauty and brains. "Helena!" Her tone was somewhere between exasperated with me and amused or embarrassed by herself, but determined nonetheless.

"Alright, alright," I sighed, shaking my head. "I give in." I paused but saw she was about to chide me again and so hurried on. "I promise." Another pause and then a rush. "But only as long as you promise to tell me that it's not working out when you realise how insane this plan is."

"Helena!"

"Ow!" Yes, she had punched me in the arm, and yes it's quite possible that she didn't really hit me hard enough to merit such a response.

"Well fine," a smug grin erupted across her face, "I promise, but seeing as it's not insane, this promise won't ever need to be fulfilled."

"You realise I'm half expecting you to burst out with whatever the modern variation of 'ner nicky ner ner' is right now?" It had to be said, even if I recognised that I was putting myself in grave danger of being punched again. Instead I just received an exaggerated huff, which then descended into genuine, infectious laughter. The warmth of her eyes as she met my gaze sent hot tendrils of fire shrieking through my stomach, but I managed to ignore them admirably.

"No, 'ner nicky ner ner' is still the phrase of choice for moments like that." She smiled, and brought her punching hand back to where her other one was still clasped with mine in her lap, and gave them a gentle squeeze. "Well, did you still want that tea? Can I persuade you to go for something caffeine-free in an attempt to aim for sleeping again, seeing as it is still only 03.30?" Her face turned serious again. "Do you ever get back to sleep once you've had a nightmare?"

"Not really." I tried to smile reassuringly, but was fairly certain it wasn't very effective. "It's ok though; I still have a lot of reading to catch up on – being gone for over a century does leave quite the literary gap in my experience – and I always have projects to tinker with." She nodded her head; understanding was there, but so was sorrow. "But," I tried to sound bright and optimistic, "I've never had the opportunity to try sleeping post-Myka-therapy before, so who knows?" She snuffed, smiling and shaking her head. I could tell she knew I was trying to cheer her.

"Ok," she stood up, keeping my hand in hers and tugging me in the direction of the kitchen, only letting go once she reached the kettle, "well can I persuade you to try one of my herbal teas then? Maybe chamomile? It's supposed to be soothing." She turned hesitantly toward me and I had to fight a very strong urge to tell her there and then that there wasn't anything in the world that she wouldn't be able to persuade me to do.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt, even if I can't really believe anything to be as soothing as a real cup of tea." Except perhaps this so-called 'Myka-therapy'.

"You never know if you don't try," she grinned at me, evidently pleased that I'd succumbed to her will yet again. She bustled about and I looked on, knowing I was hers to command.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

And so it went for the next few months, admittedly after a slight glitch a few nights later. I had made the somewhat foolish mistake of not taking Myka Ophelia Bering's promise seriously, and decided to test her threat to use our human lie-detector if I didn't come to her after a nightmare.

"Helena Wells," I was startled from my solitary breakfast tea reverie by a furious whispering in my ear. "I have the distinct feeling that you have already broken your promise to me and, believe you me, I will find out for certain and you will be grovelling for forgiveness before this day has even begun." She abruptly strode to the kitchen door, leaning out and bellowing, "Steve!" I almost choked, for some reason shocked that she was actually going to make the poor boy test me. "STEVE!"

"Myka!" I hissed as I stood, realising my error. "Myka, stop this! You really don't need to get Steve involved, I assure you-"

"Well if you would quit lying to me then no, I wouldn't. Steve!"

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry," she whipped around, triumphant at my admission. "I promise- actually, truly promise, I won't do it again. I can see you're serious about this." The grin of her triumph began to lessen slightly.

"Yes, of course I am, Helena," her voice softened as she turned toward me fully, her hand reaching for mine. It had become evident that she was not going to renege on her promises or on the newfound tactility that had been established. "I don't know how else I can convince you, but I'm not going to let you do this alone. You can't shut me out." I nodded, resigned and she moved to pull me closer but-

"Myka? What? What's happened? Are you ok? H.G.?" Steve's concerned face was almost comical in that moment as he came rushing down the stairs. I wondered how she was going to deal with this one.

"Ah, Steve," she squeezed my hand gently before letting go and turning to face him. "Uh, sorry, it's nothing really, there, um, there was a, um, a spider! In the cupboard!" Steve's eyebrows rose, and he glanced at me with a slightly worried expression.

"You do know I know you're lying right? Even if I didn't always know, I'd know because I'm the one that asks you to deal with spiders, not the other way around. That was, like, the least convincing lie I've ever heard. What's going on?" Myka looked at me somewhat desperately, but I found the situation far too amusing to help her out. I recognised my error as she narrowed her eyes.

"Ok, well, what happened was that H.G., here, is a pathological liar and I was pretty certain I'd caught her in a big one, but I needed you to be sure. However, at the threat of having you check her, she capitulated and admitted the lie. So we're all good now, thanks," and she smiled sweetly at him, ignoring my half-muted protests. Steve ran a slightly sceptical look between the two of us, nodding his head in acceptance that he'd get no further.

"Well, you're not lying; you're both a bit crazy, but not lying," he mumbled as he walked off, earning a 'Hey!' from both of us.

"I'll have you know, I am not a pathological liar," I called after him, earning a snigger from Myka and a grinning 'whatever' from Steve as he jogged back upstairs. "I'm really not," I repeated to Myka once she'd turned back to me. "Or at least I'm trying not to be."

"I know, I know," she soothed, and all at once I felt like a small child defending her evidently guilt-ridden innocence. "Just don't break this promise again, Helena, please." And I realised that I had no chance against her imploring determination.

So, from that night on, I would knock on Myka's door once the nightmare had released me and she would hold me until the tears stopped and then we would go and have some chamomile tea in the kitchen. I would then return to my own room to attempt to sleep and, surprisingly, I often had some degree of success, although not always; Myka may be miraculous in her own being, but I could not expect her to have a 100% miracle success rate when working with so cracked and undeserving a patient.

Of course, sharing such intense emotion could only serve to bring us closer as friends and, subsequently, to heighten my regard for her (something I had thought impossible: how could I think any higher of someone who already held so high a place?). The bond of our mutual interests, of similar intellect, of all that had allowed us to form that early friendship back when it was unconscionable for us to do so, still remained and it grew and developed. We found ourselves communicating this closeness even in the company of others: a shared excitement over a miniscule detail, a delicate touch to comfort or question, a raised eyebrow and a twitch at the corner of the mouth recognising a private joke between us. It felt like the more I allowed her to see of my tattered soul, the more she shone the light of her golden one upon me; the more I leant upon her, the more she shared her inherent goodness with me and allowed me to see the damages that had been wrought upon her. With every confidence we traded, I was filled with greater admiration, greater desire to see her never harmed again and also greater awareness of my own unworthiness.

I had also become aware, undeniably so, that I had fallen so very deeply in love with this perfectly unattainable woman; it was a new and slightly baffling experience. I knew that surrounding myself so in the warmth of her platonic love would not help to distract from ache I had for something more, that 'something' which I was not fit to even wish for let alone ever actually have. I was also certain that I would far rather endure that ache forever than relinquish even one iota of the friendship that she offered me. And so it was that I pledged myself to never again be the first of us to step over physical boundaries in our friendship, because how could I be trusted to not enter inappropriate territory, accident or no. The boundaries of 21st century propriety were so different to those of my youth that I was already starting from a place of uncertainty and adding the confusion of my physical desires into the melee would not help my judgement. I resolved to follow her lead.

I resolved not to consider the way her arms wrapped around me so perfectly, her height allowing me to rest against her and hide my face from the world, finding safety in the refuge of her shoulder. I refused to make too much of the way she would often slide her hand into mine under the table at dinner, sometimes stealing it away to play with my fingers in her lap, sometimes resting their comforting weight on my thighs. I could not allow myself to remember the way she would softly whisper my name when I came to her after a nightmare or, when the effects were particularly bad, she would murmur a 'honey, I'm here' or just croon 'sweetheart' into my ear. Pondering such things could only cause trouble. Besides, I would tell myself, these were probably normal behaviours between close friends in this century.

As I suppose one would expect, given our industry, the thing that disrupted this happily aching routine was an artefact, well several in fact, even if their effect was indirect. It was an awful case, its cruelty setting fire and fury in our veins. All we knew was that young women from one town were disappearing every week and turning up hundreds of miles away, mutilated and torn. And with incinerated reproductive organs.

The scene was set at a remote ranch in the wilds of Texas. The issue was that we didn't know this and just kept coming across stories of women disappearing, never to be seen alive again. The local police were getting nowhere, Sheriff Kallan's bewildered frustration was familiar to us, but not particularly helpful. None of the leads we could find gave us scent of the perpetrator or of his location. Our only remaining lead after four weeks of fruitless hunting was the fact that each disappearance happened from one particular bar. We'd scrubbed the place thoroughly and come up with nothing, so it seemed that the bar was simply his hunting ground, not the source of his power. Compounding the problem was the fact that each disappearing woman had been seen leaving with a different man, none of them locals, none of them traceable.

"We should use me as bait." The moment the words left Myka's mouth every molecule of water in my body turned to ice, sharp shards splintering me and rendering me momentarily immobile. "We should use me as bait and plant some kind of tracking device on me so you can follow the signal to wherever this guy goes."

"Myka, no way," Pete's vehement refusal of the idea broke my horrified trance.

"Absolutely not," I joined my voice with Pete's, my still reeling mind momentarily wondering, as reeling minds are often wont to do, at this bizarre moment in which I was siding with Pete against Myka. "Myka, it's out of the question; I won't allow it."

"You won't allow it?" Her incredulous voice raised my fury and I attempted to silently remind her that she had used that very phrase against me in the past.

"No, I will not allow it," I was almost spitting each word out, fear for Myka clouding my ability to converse rationally. "Categorically, no."

"Helena, women have been disappearing here for weeks, we have been searching for weeks and we have found nothing useful for weeks, except the fact that this is the last place each victim was seen. There hasn't been the slightest pattern, no unusual sightings; there's nothing except this bar as our starting point! The only way we can do this is if we can track a victim and the best and safest way to do that is for me to be the victim."

"How on earth do you possibly calculate that as the safest way?" I shot back, unable to believe what I was hearing. "We don't know anything about how or where he takes them – we don't even know that he definitely keeps them alive for any amount of time or anything about what kind of artefact is involved - you could be dead before you're gone for thirty seconds! I can't allow it!"

"She's got a point, Mykes," Pete backed me up.

"Thank you, Pete," I huffed out, not dropping the furious eye contact I held with Myka. "At least let me be the bait if there is no other plan."

"What!?" she exploded with an echo from Pete. "How does that make it any less dangerous?" She narrowed her eyes at me, rage seeping out of her. "Don't you dare try and go all self-sacrificey on me Helena, don't you dare-"

"'Self-sacrifice', she says," I scoffed, "having just suggested using herself as bait-"

"Ladies!" Pete's interruption earned him an incensed and unison 'What?' from Myka and myself. "Time out! Calm it down, please!"

"Indeed, Agent Lattimer," came the terrifyingly unexpected voice of Mrs. Frederick who had apparently just materialised in our hotel room. "Ladies, compose yourselves." She gave us all the customary moment to recover from the shock of her arrival before carrying on. "This case does seem to be causing some difficulty. I'm beginning to suspect that there must be some kind of time stopping or teleportation artefact of considerable power involved. Our inability to locate the assailant after the event and the distance at which the bodies are being found is beginning to suggest it. As such, I believe Agent Bering's suggestion to be the correct one-"

"I really must object," I interrupted, fear for Myka's safety overriding fear of Mrs. Frederick. "The danger is too unknown-"

"Agent Wells," Mrs. Frederick's voice of authority came crashing down, drowning out my own. "Your concerns are noted, but facing unknown danger is what this job is all about, as Agent Bering is well aware. We will do all that we can to protect her, but this option is the one we are going to take. Now-"

"Let me go instead, please," I interrupted again, knowing I was on dangerous ground already. "Please, I am the more logical choice." An interested quirk of Mrs. Frederick's eyebrow encouraged me to continue over Myka's vehement protestations. "I am the logical choice on so many levels: I am smaller than Myka, a more obvious target for physical attack. I have a foreign accent which will draw his attention. I have no living relations to mourn me should we fail. Pete and Myka have a longer partnership together than either have with me so will be able to work together better to protect me. I am the only one here with crimes against humanity to my name-"

"I believe they have already been paid for," came Mrs. Frederick's slow interruption, endorsing Myka's heated objections.

"Have they really though?" I questioned, sceptical that one can ever really atone for trying to destroy the world, let alone for betraying the trust of one such as Myka Bering. "And besides, the other points still stand."

"Helena," Myka's voice was loud and insistent beside me as she took my hand in an attempt to dissuade me, but I felt the calm of victory overtake. I knew Mrs. Frederick could not fail to see the logic of my arguments.

"Hmm." The overriding voice of Mrs. Frederick's considerations was all I had ears for. "Ok, Agent Wells, you will take this one." I was nearly completely incapacitated by the relief that washed over me as Mrs. Frederick's smooth, low voice continued to brief us on the protective measures they would be taking for me, and how we should set the trap. I had to give myself a mental slap around the face, recognising that the details she was imparting to us could well be life-saving. I felt Myka's hand still clasping mine with white knuckle force, perhaps intended to impart some of her fury, but really it only grounded me into the fact that she was still there and that she was not about to be used as bait on this most uncertain mission.

Eventually Mrs. Frederick left, gone to fetch some particular and specialist equipment, and then Pete left to get some sleep because it was likely to be a late night mission. Myka turned to look at me and it was only then, being left alone with her, that I realised quite how much trouble I was in.

"Helena," I swallowed as she dropped my hand and strode across the room, stopped and strode back again, all the agitation of furious fear encapsulated in that tense pacing. "Helena, why would you do that? Why? Why sub me out for you? Why would you take that risk from me? How  _dare_  you be so enraged at my suggestion when I'm the bait, but then be so placid and calm and, and  _smug_  when the same risks are taken from me and placed onto you?" I decided that staying still and not answering any of these questions that really required no answer was the best plan. "Arrgh! I could kill you I'm so angry right now, but I realise that that would kind of defeat the point and that is the  _only_  reason you are still breathing." I decided to let the lack of logic slide.

She stopped her pacing and approached me, took my hands but refused to look me in the face.

"You have to come back, ok?" Her voice was small suddenly. "I- I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you out there."

"Myka," I tried to interrupt her gently, but failed again.

"No," she protested, fierce again, "you don't get to, to charm me into calming down and tell me not to worry. Even though I kind of want you to, but still. Gah, why can I never make any sense when I'm cross with you?" I did try very hard not to be amused by such a question, but she caught my poorly hidden smile and a reluctant grin at her own ridiculousness broke out across her face even as she scolded me. "Don't you dare laugh at me when I'm angry!"

"Darling, you know I could only ever laugh at you out of the deepest love," I countered, aiming for levity but evidently failing as her face quickly grew pensive again. "Myka-"

"Do you mean that?" she questioned, and suddenly she seemed more vulnerable than I had ever seen her.

"Do I mean what, dear?" I quickly scoured my actions and hers for signs that I had acted improperly; I felt fear well slightly in my chest. There was also a faintly whispered, queasy hope, but hope had proven treacherous far too many times in the past for me to do anything other than staunchly ignore it.

"Do you love me?" Her barely audible question stunned me. She could only be asking about-

"Of course I love you, darling, you know that," I tried to brush it off, as if she was asking about the more platonic variety of love that was much less difficult to admit and far more easy to cope with.

"Just stop it, Helena, please. Let's actually talk about this because I'm afraid that if we don't do it now we never will and I need for us to talk abou-"

A sharp knock at the door accompanied by an 'I'm coming in, ladies, so cover anything that needs covering,' from the one and only Pete Lattimer. I didn't know whether to kiss him or curse him as he barged into the room blearily, cutting Myka off from that daunting line of conversation.

"This is for you," he thrust the open Farnsworth in my direction. "Artie's talent for interrupting my beauty sleep strikes again." He turned to leave, paused and turned back. "That sounded less weird in my head." He ambled out again, leaving Myka and I to stare at each other, slightly dumbstruck by the almost surreal interruption, until the sound of Artie's voice barking through the Farnsworth at me got our attention.

"H.G.! Finally," spoke the ever-irritated voice, bushy brows and furry face of one Artie Nielsen. "I understand you are about to become the bait that sets this trap of Myka's, correct? Well, Mrs. Frederick has asked me to run through with you how to use some of the general artefact wards and tools that she's going to be bringing."

"They're complicated enough to need instruction?" Myka's interruption was inflected with worry. "And it really isn't  _my_  trap, just so you know. H.G.'s the one who'll be taking all the risk of it-"

"Darling, I think he means it was your idea, which it was, and besides, it's not like the rest of the operation from where you and Pete stand will be risk-free-"

"Excuse me!" Artie's tinny Farnsworth voice bellowed at us. "I have a list of things to explain, and it's quite long, which, Myka, is good news as it means there are lots of tools and that means more protection. And no, lots of them will be simple enough, like the spray to negate pheromone activities or earplugs to prevent a siren-like effect, but some of them require a bit more on the part of the user. So pay attention! Both of you! Just because it's H.G. this time, doesn't mean it won't be you another time, Myka!"

"Not if I can help it," I muttered to myself and soon discovered the folly of such action as sweet Myka's elbow found its way sharply to my ribs.

An hour or so later, Artie was just winding down on his excessively long list of wards, when Mrs. Frederick popped out behind us again, bringing with her a whole plethora of artefact tools that matched Artie's descriptions.

"Agent Nielsen," she addressed him through the Farnsworth, "I trust you have had time to give all the instruction Agent Wells will require?"

"Mrs. Frederick?" his slightly startled response was fairly comical to behold. "Oh, uh, yes, we'd more or less just finished up with the butterfly pin. Did you get everything?"

"Yes, Arthur," her stern voice implying that of course she did. "Now we just need to provide Agent Wells with the appropriate attire to fit her role and we'll be set-"

"Appropriate attire?" Myka and I interrupted in unison, her voice laced with outrage, mine tinged with hesitant amusement.

"Yes, appropriate attire," she sent us that formidable glare. "None of the previous victims have exactly been the types to wear blouses and blazers and, if this trap is going to work, Agent Wells will need to fit the profile."

"I do enjoy a bit of play acting." Again I think my attempts at humour were slightly misplaced with an audience of Mrs. Frederick, Artie and a currently irate Myka. I thought to guard my ribs against another elbow attack, but was instead shot an almost hurt and still furious look from Myka which made me far more nervous.

"What does she need to wear?" Myka's tone was businesslike, but the tremors of her anger were just about detectable underneath.

"Nothing too surprising unfortunately," came Mrs. Frederick's frowning reply. "She just needs to wear less, essentially; short shorts, low top, and, of course, to act as if she has far less brain power than she actually does."

"You want to turn H.G. Wells into a brainless bimbo, so some vile, perverted man will come and get his hands on her?" The almost possessive fury under Myka's voice was causing great turmoil in my mind but doing strange and pleasantly fiery things to my stomach.

"I can assure you that 'want' has very little to do with it, Agent Bering," Mrs. Frederick's voice was almost dismissive, "and the aim is certainly less that he 'get his hands on her' and more to capture this 'vile, perverted man' as you call him, though I shouldn't have to remind you it could just as easily be a woman." Mrs. Frederick stared Myka down until she looked suitably chastened, although I could see her hands were still clenched into tight fists.

"Yes Ma'am," she replied, almost sullenly; I was as incredulous as I was smitten.

"Myka," I tried gently, "I really will be fine; you've seen all the tool-"

"Shut up, Helena," she cut me off, stalking away from me and ignoring my raised eyebrows. She walked out of the room, leaving me to turn and face Mrs. Frederick's own, far more intimidating, raised eyebrow. She unlocked the case containing all the artefact wards, but first fished out a tiny bundle of clothing which then caused me some embarrassment.

"Isn't that what I wore in-"

"Yes, your 'fashionable British archaeologist' outfit seemed not inappropriate."

"Well, at least 'fashionable British archaeologist' sounds much better than 'bimbo' or whatever it was Myka described me as." I sighed, wondering whether this particular turn of events would make it better or worse for Myka; there were certainly painful memories associated with the outfit. "I'd best go and change. At least it's warm weather."

A few hours later, Pete, Myka and I were driving silently from our hotel in the direction of the bar. Myka still wouldn't talk to me, which seemed a little childish considering how decidedly desperate she had been to talk earlier, but she was evidently fairly emotionally stressed, so such behaviour was perhaps not unreasonable. We pulled up a few streets away from the bar; it wouldn't have done well for our plan if the bait arrived with obvious back up.

"Righty ho then," I piped up, "I'd best be off." I swung open the door.

"Good luck, H.G.," Pete's warm voice was a welcome support, but Myka just looked away. "Stay safe and stay in touch," he tapped his ear. Wearing a standard wire would have been problematic I imagine with apparel such as mine, but when you have splinters of Evelyn Glennie's drumsticks embedded just under the skin behind your ear (the pain of that process I think is what counts as this artefact's downside) enabling you to hear each other, that's a different matter altogether.

"Thank you, Pete," I smiled back at him. "I will. Adieu for now." I paused for a moment, glancing at the back of Myka's head, but couldn't think of what more to say to her, so I just hopped out of the SUV and started off down the street.

"Wait!" I heard her call as she jumped out of the car and jogged after me. I turned around and caught her as she flung her arms around me, crushing me to her. "You better not die," she whispered tightly into my ear. "Please, Helena, just be careful." I pulled back a little, making her meet my eye; I had to swallow and take a deep breath when I saw water glistening there. "What you said to Mrs. Frederick – you might not have 'relations' to mourn you, but you sure as hell have-"

"Darling, shh," I interrupted her just as her voice found a tremor. Touching a finger to the soft skin of her cheek, I wiped back the lone tear that had managed to escape. "I'll be careful; I promise. And I say that knowing full well how serious you are about breaking promises," I smiled when I saw the corners of her mouth twitch up, and amused remembrance flash in her eyes. I pulled her close again, feeling slightly overwhelmed. She squeezed me tightly again before suddenly letting go and running back to the car. Pete was watching, and I met his eye, imploring him to make sure she was ok. He nodded his understanding and I flashed him a grateful smile before turning away.

I was fairly familiar with the bar by now, having swept it up and down for artefacts multiple times out of hours with Pete and Myka over the last four weeks. It was a mildly repulsive place, if I'm honest: dark, often sticky, and the beverages served were certainly not of the highest quality. Still, I had to play the part, swigging at my cheap bottle of beer as I sat and waited. I was aware of many pairs of eyes on me, but didn't allow my pride to run away with me too far; I was fully aware that curiosity of a newcomer, particularly one with a British accent, would account for a large chunk of attention in such a place as this.

"Ok, H.G.," Pete's voice in my ear was quiet and calm and soothing. He could, in fact, be a grown up when the situation required it. "We're getting the signal from your tracker loud and clear, and can see you in the bar's CCTV, so just nod or flick your hair or something to acknowledge you can still hear me. Great, ok; well, more or less every guy in there has checked you out once or twice so far, so make sure you check that sense stone ring thingy when someone approaches you 'cos it would kinda suck if you walked off with the wrong guy. I don't think Mykes would be too happy with you either-"

"Pete!" Myka's hissing voice cracked into the conversation, and I heard a smack.

"Sorry, sorry-" Pete's half laughing apology didn't really do much for him. I cleared my throat.

"Now, now, children," I murmured, trying to keep my mouth still so I didn't appear to be talking to myself. "I would appreciate it if you didn't shout at each other while I'm able to hear your every whisper. It doesn't help my characterisation if I appear to spasmodically twitch every time one of you shocks me with your volume." I received some embarrassed and muttered apologies before returning to my tasteless beer.

"Hey there," came a scratchy voice behind me. I swivelled on my bar stool to discover a tall, muscular man smiling at me through his facial hair. I never did understand the appeal of getting beard rash from one's lover, but then you can't account for preferences. I smiled at him warmly anyway, sliding the ring Mrs. Frederick had given me around on my finger so that its stone faced into my fist as I gently clenched it. "Can I buy you a drink?" He drawled, and I waited for some reaction from the stone against my palm. Nothing.

"Thank you kindly," I replied, wanting to let him down gently; he had at least been polite enough, "but I'm still on my first one for the moment." I held up my three quarters full beer bottle as proof.

"Well," he countered, coming to lean against the bar next to me, "you could sure stand to be drinking something nicer than that." Oh drat, I thought. "Let me get you something sweet."

"Really," I said firmly, "thank you but I'm quite content with my beer-"

"Come on, now, darlin'-"

"The lady said no, Dan," another voice rumbled behind me and a large hand settled on my shoulder.

"Awright, Jed, no worries," my bearded suitor backed away, palms raised in surrender. I swivelled again to discover my 'saviour' to be a giant bear of a man who was still watching Dan back away.

"Thank you," I offered, concentrating on the ring's stone against my palm. "I was beginning to wonder if he'd let me be!"

"No problem," he boomed. "Got to keep an eye on the young bucks; they ain't no good when they start getting too pushy." Again, absolutely nothing from the ring.

"H.G.?" I heard Myka whisper. "Everything ok?" Evidently I wasn't the only one who feared bad things from the encounter.

"I'll just leave you be then, ma'am," Jed mumbled and wandered back to his table. Turning back to face the bar, I cleared my throat slightly.

"Yes, darling," I murmured. "Not a peep from the stone."

"Ok, sorry, it's just that that guy was huge and he put his hand on you and I just-"

"Myka, it's ok, I'm alright. I really need to stop talking to you though because my ventriloquism skills are only moderate and people here are going to think I'm crazy." I heard Pete snigger and made a mental note to scold him later.

"Ok, just know that we're here." I heard her take a deep breath and let it out slowly as I nodded gently, knowing they were watching from the cameras. I took another long swig of my beer and surveyed the room in the mirrors behind the bar. It was fairly crowded and had quite a range of ages, but there was a definite gender imbalance, with only a handful of women. I wondered if word had gotten out of the disappearances happening here.

"You new in town?" came a voice beside me. I turned to face the man. "I don't think I've seen you before and that's definitely not an accent you hear too much of in these parts."

"Yes, just passing through actually," I smiled at him, turning the stone in to my palm. I very carefully kept my face neutral as the stone suddenly started to send small but unmistakable pulses of heat into my skin. This man had an artefact. "I'm doing a tour of the States and I'm just on my way to Austin. Have you been?"

"Yeah, a couple times. It's a bit too busy for my taste; too many people, not enough open fields."

"You like the country then?" I asked, needing to engage him. "Got the romantic soul?"

"I guess you could say that," he smiled, laughing to himself a little.

"We're with you, Helena," I heard Myka whisper.

"I'm Derek," he stated, squinting at me, his head cocked slightly to one side, as if weighing up my reactions.

"Helena," I replied brightly, offering my hand to shake.

"Nice to meet you, Helena," he took my hand in his, gripping firmly and meeting my eye for a moment. I tried not to think about the fact that this was very likely the man who had committed the atrocities of the last few weeks; my cover depended on my ability to perform.

"And you," I smiled, giving as firm a shake as I had received. "So, do you live around here?"

"Yeah, I have a ranch outside town. Never really been one for travelling much before, but I love the way your accent sounds so maybe that'll change." His grey eyes met mine again. "There are plenty beautiful places round here though; you should see this place a bit before you go to Austin." A pause. "I could show you around a bit if you like? My ranch has some of the best beauty spots there are." I made a study of keeping my face bright and cautiously interested.

"You know that sounds like a great idea – they say you never really experience a place until a local shows you round. It is a little late though; wouldn't it be better in daylight?" I didn't want to be unrealistically eager.

"Well, that far out in the country, there's no light pollution so the moon is all you really need to see by; besides you'd overheat out there in the day this time of year." He smiled easily at me, sharing a joke. "It's tempting to go nocturnal sometimes."

"Well alright then, if it's better at night, I guess now would be the time to see it. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Absolutely," he smiled, sliding off his bar stool. "What is there to mind about showing a pretty woman a pretty place or two?" I made myself giggle flirtatiously at him, holding back the urge to render him forever infertile.

"Charmer," I accused, playing 'easily impressed' as hard as I could. I let him usher me to the door, his hand low on the small of my back; there was a sharp intake of breath from Myka over the airwaves.

"Myka, she's ok," I heard Pete's urgently whispered reassurance, before he spoke normally again, this time to me. "H.G., we're with you." His calm echo of Myka's earlier pledge was heartening.

"This way," Derek caught my hand in his and led me over to a slightly battered looking motorcycle.

"Oh you have a bike, that's so cool," I enthused, quaking slightly inside. Motorcycles were not something I'd yet had a chance to cover in my re-education into the 21st century. "I've never ridden one before though; is it definitely safe?"

"Don't you worry," he smiled at me as he handed me a helmet, "I won't let anything bad happen to you." He mounted the bike and instructed me to take the seat behind him. "Hold on tight, now. Just grab onto me and you'll be fine." I closed my eyes briefly as nausea rose up threatening to overwhelm me, but steeled myself to the task of wrapping my arms around him; if this was indeed our man, he needed taking out and there was no time to be squeamish about touching him.

The engine revved and we were soon speeding out onto the road. We zipped through the little town's streets and out onto the open road. After maybe two minutes of empty roads, we began to gather momentum until we were moving at such speed that I couldn't make out anything we were passing. I tried to keep track of what was happening around me but all I could sense was that our speed was impossibly increasing and that somehow the blurred world around seemed to be getting brighter and brighter until it was almost blinding and then-

"Helena!" Myka's alarmed voice rang out in my ear, fighting against the roar of motion around me. "Pete, she's disappeared. She-"

"We need to zoom out the map," Pete interrupted her swiftly.

"What just happened?" I blearily questioned, just about holding on to the fact that Derek would presumably expect some shock in his passenger at such an event.

"Look, there," Pete's tone now triumphant, relieved. "They just jumped thirty miles! H.G. can you hear us? Just clear your throat or cough or something." I obediently cleared my throat. "Yes! And again, just to make sure?"

"Oh thank God," I heard Myka's relief pour out before it was swept away by the strong return of her agitation as she realised, "Pete, we've got to move! Now! He's just given himself a thirty mile head start on us and I don't want H.G. left alone with him any longer than she has to be. We're coming Helena, hold on."

"Derek?" I questioned again, genuine concern for my situation helping my performance.

"Nothin' to worry your pretty head about; we just took a shortcut and caught a sun flare or something."

"Oh, ok," I tried to sound like I had few enough brain cells to swallow his ludicrous explanation. As our speed returned to something resembling normal, I scanned the scenery finding little to tell me where we were: only more open roads and fields. We carried on for several miles further until we came to a turn for 'Greenacres Ranch', a charming name which immediately made my too-warm blood run cold.

"Here we are; home sweet home," Derek practically sang as we slid around the bend onto the dirt track.

"This is your ranch then? Greenacres is a pretty name; it sounds so peaceful."

"It is," I thought I could detect a note of triumph in his voice. "You can feel so completely alone out here, not another person to disturb you for miles and miles and miles." How comforting, I thought to myself.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It was a beautiful place; I had to admit that fact even in my less than tranquil state of mind. Out in the country, far from the lights of civilisation, one had the chance to revel in the true glory of the night sky's beauties. I was reminded vaguely of times past, of the century when the population was smaller and such a sight was not so rare a one to behold. Today's England is altogether too infested with towns and cities, streetlamps and road lights; finding space to truly appreciate the undiluted splendour of the night sky is not an easy thing to do. That, I will admit, is one advantage that the US has: enough space to find oneself truly apart from humanity from time to time.

Of course such isolation has its hazards, for example finding oneself suddenly alone with a probable murderer, far from the reaches of any kind of help; not ideal even for one generally capable of taking care of herself. I let my eyes fall back down to earth from their heavenly review and searched him out, only to find him maybe three paces away, his eyes fixed and intent upon me.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" his casual observation seemed to sit at odds with the weight of his gaze.

"Yes, beautiful," I echoed rather brainlessly; I hadn't exactly set the bar of my character's intelligence high and I saw no need to change that now. "I swear I've never seen so many stars." Well, not for a hundred years or so anyway.

"That's the beauty of the country," he nodded, smugly. "It's so uncontaminated by humans, you can see nature as she's meant to be." I shuddered briefly as I couldn't help recognise the parallel between his comment and my own self-contained musings from the moments before. I hoped my own take had a slightly less genocidal feel to it; I was after all trying to leave mass murder firmly in the past. "Are you cold?"

"Slightly," I decided to allow this interpretation of my shudder.

"Wait here, I'll fetch you a sweater." I hadn't really anticipated chivalry from my murderer, but was grateful for the chance to breathe free of him for a few moments as he entered the house.

"Myka? Pete?" I spoke quietly into the empty night.

"Helena," her reply was quick and sure, quieting some of the anxiety I didn't even realise was roaring inside me. "We're on our way, still maybe twenty miles out but we're on our way. Are you all right?"

"Yes, darling, I'm fine. We've stopped in at Greenacres Ranch, his home I believe as he's just gone into the house to get me a jumper."

"Yes, I heard that part; your 'attire' seems less 'appropriate' right now because I really don't want you to have to wear his clothes." I had to laugh at her; I mean really, of all the things to object to. "I'm serious, just the thought is making my skin crawl."

"I know, darling," I replied, still laughing a little. "If I'm honest, I'm feeling a little nauseous about it myself, but I'm sure it'll wash off. What I really wanted to mention is that I think now he must have at least two artefacts."

"What?" The stress and worry in her voice shot up.

"H.G., how'd you figure that?" Pete's voice entered the conversation. "What happened?"

"Well, nothing really happened; it's just that if each victim left with a different person, there'd have to be a group of them involved. Derek seems rather inclined to enjoy his isolation, he's not exactly one to foster a prospering team, so I just wonder if he might not have an artefact that's changing his appearance as well as an artefact that's helping him jump the distances. Speaking of which, I didn't see him do anything when we jumped, he just sped up his motorcycle enormously and then there was a flash and we'd jumped. I suppose it could be the bike itself, but I don't really know."

"Ok, we'll get Artie to look into the bike, and what, do you think he's got something like that thimble thing?"

"Harriet Tubman's thimble," Myka's worried voice was speculative now. "I guess something like that would-"

"He's coming back," I had to interrupt her with a whisper. "I've got to go, but I'll try and cough or something to respond in future."

"You talking to someone?" Derek's voice clattered across the grass to me, a slight edge in it spelling danger.

"Oh, I like to talk to the moon sometimes, and I just couldn't resist her being so big and shiny tonight," I hoped the slightly glazed smile I plastered on as I faced him would be convincingly 'brainless bimbo'. I heard Pete's snigger in my ear and the catch of Myka's breath as she listened to hear if Derek would swallow my act. I watched his face relax as he smiled at me condescendingly.

"Well she is a pretty sight," he handed me a thick, woollen jumper which I knew would be stifling in the heat, but slipped it over my head anyway, trying not to breathe in the musky, smoky, masculine odour of the thing. "And so are you; aren't you just the cutest thing in that?" I made myself giggle again, unsure whether I loathed more the fact that I had to do it or the fact that he enjoyed it. I heard Myka sigh in the background, glad that she was relieved, but slightly sickened that she could hear me flirting 'girlishly' with this creature. "Let's take a walk and I'll show you round." He offered me his arm and I took it, trying not to wince as I heard Myka muttering 'c'mon, c'mon, c'mon' under her breath. I hated hearing such fear in her voice, but relaxed slightly as I heard her flip open her Farnsworth and start to brief Artie on the situation.

"Where are we going?" I asked, trying to sound wondrous rather than nervous.

"Just to the arboretum, I've got some lovely trees there," his voice was beginning to edge again, excitement pushing it worryingly into harshness.

"Any chance I could just use your loo first?" I didn't know what his planned timeline was, but clearly he had a plan and I needed to delay it. I saw irritation flash across his face but he masked it quickly and guided me back toward the house, directing me to the top of the stairs on the right.

"Myka," I whispered under cover of the noise of the running tap as I washed my hands.

"Helena?" Just hearing her voice soothed me, even in its agitated state.

"Talk to me, darling; has Artie found any information on the artefacts?"

"Nothing yet, I'm afraid, though he thinks you're probably right about the bike and the multiple artefacts."

"Artie's agreeing with me? And is admitting the fact? Good heavens," I was glad to hear her light laughter at my small joke.

"How are you holding up? We're only about ten minutes away-"

"'Cos I gots the driving skills!" Pete's familiarly raucous crowing brought a smile to my face and I could almost see my dear Myka rolling her eyes and shaking her head before carrying on.

"Yes, well, Pete's driving hasn't slowed us down too much, so we'll be with you soon; just hang in there." Pete's protestations and Myka's fond mockery cheered me; I always felt so honoured to be allowed to bask in the warmth of their sibling bond.

"I will, darling; I confess I will be very glad to see you both, but I am ok. He said he wanted to show me the arboretum, so I imagine that is where we shall be when you arrive."

"Ok, we'll find you; I promise. Just," she paused, taking a breath. "Just make sure you keep your promise." I had to smile, even as she made my chest ache.

"I promise, darling, I'll be careful. I'd better be going now though. See you soon."

I left the bathroom with a heavy heart, but forced some bright excitement onto my face as I tripped lightly down the stairs and out into the yard where he was waiting for me. He turned as I approached, that unsettling light of excitement was in his eyes again and I reminded myself that Myka was nearly here, help was on its way and Derek was unaware.

"Let's go then, sugar," he drawled as he offered me his arm, which I took smiling. He led me away down the gravel track; it twisted and turned, eventually beginning to narrow down and peter out into a small footpath through the bushes. We didn't converse much, except for the occasional 'watch your step' at a fallen branch or wayward bramble. After maybe five minutes of walking, the path disappeared altogether, opening out into the arboretum. Trees of all different dimensions were spread out before us, their beauty significant and their variety impressive.

"Wow," I murmured, my genuine admiration for nature's brilliance aiding my performance no end.

"Yup," he whispered from very close behind me. I did my very best to stay in character as I felt his arms snake around my waist, joining together on my stomach as he rested his chin on my shoulder. I placed my hands atop his, signifying my character's approval of his move. "My family used to collect trees, going back generations now; I've got more different types of tree here than you can tell me names for." He gently but firmly pulled me tighter against him and I managed not to squirm. "My pop always said the world needs more trees and less people but somehow we keep killing more trees and making more people; it ain't right."

"Well," I cleared my throat, trying to think how to respond to such a statement without being too hypocritical, "I'm certainly in favour of more trees; this place is amazing."

"You bet it is," he murmured, placing a quick kiss against my neck.

"C'mon, c'mon!" I heard Myka's frantic hushed fury and hoped she hadn't heard the smack of Derek's lips against my skin. "Pete! Down there! We're coming Helena, we're at the Greenacres sign."

"C'mon," he released his grip on me and I managed not to sigh with relief. "This way," he held out his hand for me to take. "I want to show you my favourite trees." I took his offered hand, making sure it was my character's vapid excitement on my face, rather than my own wary reluctance. We approached a huge sycamore, its leafy boughs stretching high above us.

"That's a sycamore, right?" I asked, knowing Myka would be listening.

"I'm impressed," he patronised. "Yeah, she's a sycamore. This old girl's over a hundred years old. I tried to calculate it once, how many seeds she'd have produced and sent floating away on the wind in that time, but the number was too big to remember. But just think how many tree babies she's got out in the world, fighting their fight right now." The madness in his eyes had most certainly crept into his voice by now, and I decided not to question 'tree babies' as his chosen terminology.

"Yes," I hesitated, "that's, um, a lot of tree babies." Evidently my lack of calm was beginning to show, although whether it was my character's hesitation or my own that he suspected, I don't know, but he span around to me, eyes narrowing.

"Don't you think having more trees and less humans is a good idea?" he demanded, imperious is his madness.

"I'm all for more trees, of course, but," I decided that my character would probably have her reservations about 'less humans' anyway, "I guess it depends what you mean by 'less humans' – you can't just stop people from reproducing and other than that you're talking about killing people; I can't really support that." He sighed, shoulders sagging and head shaking in disappointment.

"Why do they never understand?" he seemed to be talking to the tree itself, and I realised we'd reached the point where his charade of 'friendly local' was going to end, and the part of 'vicious murderer' would come to the fore. I watched, horrified as his face began to swell and change shape getting broader and paler. His shoulders narrowed and he grew about two inches. Hair that had been dark brown became light blonde and grey eyes became bright shining blue.

"Derek?" I questioned, keeping in fearful character without too much difficulty as his transformation ended and he discarded something on the floor behind him.

"Helena?" He grinned at me manically, apparently enjoying mocking my question.

"Derek, what-"

"You," he advanced upon me, "are in the unfortunate position of being alone in a foreign place, far away from home or help; nobody knows you and nobody knows you are here. I am in the lucky position of being able to do my part, to fight for the future of this earth by taking one more human breeder out of the equation. I can't do much without getting caught, but with that," he pointed at the shining object on the floor behind him, "and my magic bike and with this," he pulled out a chain he wore around his neck under his shirt, a slim black stone hanging from it, "I can take you out one by one and make the odds slightly fairer." He continued towards me as I backed away. "Of course," he carried on, "I'll never be able to make it completely fair, never take as many humans as the humans have taken trees, but I'll do what I can. My own guerrilla warfare-" I decided now or never and dashed at him, taking out his legs with a swift, low spin of my own. As he fell to the ground, he grabbed at my leg and suddenly I was unable to move, aware only of the cold press of the stone against my skin of my ankle and a sharp pressure growing low in my abdomen. I tried to break away, to cry out, to do anything to stop the burning inside but all I could do was stand immobile, tears starting to stream down my frozen face.

"What the fu-" I heard him wonder just as my own ears picked up the sound of someone running through the trees toward us.

"Helena!"

"H.G.!"

They were here. Myka's long legs powered her across the ground towards us as she flung herself at Derek, wrenching him away from me. I gasped as I was released from the artefact; it felt like the flaming fist around my internal organs had finally released but its burns still remained. Pete caught me as I nearly passed out, lying me swiftly but gently on the ground; by the time I'd finally come to my senses enough to attempt to assess the current situation I could barely move for the pain in my lower abdomen.

"Mykes!" I heard Pete's fearful cry and forced myself to turn, only to see her frozen, the black stone pressed against her neck and Derek pointing her gun at Pete.

"Myka!" I tried to cry out, but only a hoarse whisper escaped. Her eyes darted across to meet mine and I felt rage consume me, fuelling me as I saw her pain drowning her, flanked with fear and panic, her eyes pleading with me to make it stop. Derek's attention was still on Pete, the more obvious threat as he was fully mobile and, of course, much larger than me. I felt around on the ground behind me, assessed the distance, the angle, the force I'd need and let fly. The small rock sailed past Myka, striking Derek at the temple. He released her and she collapsed immediately on the ground at his feet and he clutched at his head before staggering around to aim his gun at me. I shut my eyes as I heard a shot ring out.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 **A/N:** whaaa! A cliffhanger! :O

 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Helena!" I just about heard her, a whisper above the roar of pain in my abdomen.

"Gotcha!" I heard Pete exclaim in amongst an explosion of purple sparks and the rustle of a foil bag. Suddenly I could hear properly again, the pain in my abdomen was gone, and my head was beginning to clear. Apparently I hadn't been shot. I sat up to see Pete holding the snag bag aloft triumphantly, Myka sitting up and searching for me, and Derek crumpled at Pete's feet, blood leaking from the gaping bullet wound in his chest.

"Helena." Myka breathed my name, relief flooding her face as she stared at me, one hand over her stomach. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, darling; are you alright," I looked pointedly at her hand. She looked at it, as if surprised it was still hovering there. We both scrambled to our feet and crossed the distance to each other.

"I'm fine," she reassured me, engulfing me in a tight embrace, "just a little fuzzy headed." Suddenly she pulled back. "Ugh, can you please take that ridiculous sweater off because you smell all wrong." Pete caught my eye before he let slip a giggle and I turned back to Myka, trying not to smirk as I dragged the jumper up over my head and flung it on the ground behind me.

"Better?"

"Yes, much," she just about managed not to laugh as she pulled me to her again, and I tried not to revel too much in the feeling as my newly exposed skin met hers while she held me for several long moments. "You are still going to need a cleansing shower to get rid of it completely though," the laugh succeeded in edging into her voice.

"Hey!" I took her usual response and swatted her on the arm as I pulled back, feigning outrage before joining the laughter. As the adrenaline began to subside I bent, resting my hands on my knees and taking a deep breath. I felt her place a hand gently on my back, as if she knew I still appreciated the reassurance of her presence.

"Good job," her voice was soft and I was unclear whether she was addressing Pete or me or the both of us.

"I guess we should call Sheriff Kallan so the locals can come and deal with this," Pete's voice was also gentle as he indicated Derek's lifeless form, and I wondered if he was responding to my exhaustion or Myka's. "I'll do that, you call Artie." I straightened up, nodding along with Myka as Pete turned away, taking his phone from his pocket. Myka's hand drifted slightly down my back as I stood, lingering a moment before falling away.

"Ok," she addressed me now, "did you see the artefact he was using to change his appearance?"

"Yes," I perked up, remembering. "He dropped it behind him after he changed, just before he started on his little rant about breeders and guerrilla warfare." I strode over in the direction we had come from, searching the ground for the shiny object I had seen Derek throw. "There," I pointed as Myka snapped on some purple gloves. She bent down coming back up with the small figurine in her hand. She turned it around, examining curiously.

"Oh," I couldn't hold in the gasp. "That looks almost like the faces on the Janus coin." I felt my heart rate increase; evidently I still held a fair amount of subconscious fear for that particular tool. I felt her glance at me before she quickly dropped the figure into a foil bag, a small shower of sparks falling from it.

After a moment her free, now gloveless hand found its way to mine, squeezing gently. "We should call Artie."

* * *

 

Later that night we sat in the departure lounge at the Austin-Bergstrom International Airport having all decided we'd rather just get back to South Dakota than spend another night at our hotel.

"You ladies want anything if I go in search of food?"

"No food, thank you, Pete. A cup of tea would be divine though." I smiled tiredly at him as he grinned and nodded; the dear boy was worth a great deal more than I'd given him credit for in the first instances of our acquaintance.

"Mykes?"

"I'm alright, thanks." I turned and raised an eyebrow at her; I thought I knew her better than that.

"Not even Twizzlers?" Evidently Pete did too.

"Um," she hummed her hesitation before caving. "Ok, Twizzlers please." Another pause. "Make that two packs." She grinned guiltily and I smiled, feeling warmth spread through me again.

"Two packs of Twizzlers it is," he grinned back at her before spinning on his heel and bounding away.

"You had me worried for a moment there," I murmured as she sank down in her chair, resting her head on my shoulder. "Non-consumption of Twizzlers in a situation such as this would usually suggest illness or perhaps an artefact of some kind-" I chuckled and leant my head against hers as she punched me rather pathetically.

"If you're allowed tea, I'm allowed Twizzlers." I laughed at her tired brain's interesting take on logic, but instead of the expected punch she simply took my hand, lacing our fingers together and nestling closer into me. I tried not to breathe too deeply, not to make it too obvious that the scent of her tangled hair and the feel of her warm breath across my neck were driving me slightly wild. We sat in silence, enjoying the apparent calm of the quiet, the lack of life-threatening artefacts on the loose against us. "Make the most of my current tiredness, Helena," she mumbled against my collarbone, losing the rest of the sentence.

"Sorry, darling?" I probed gently, not wanting to wake her if she had in fact fallen asleep.

"I'm too worn out right now, but when we get home you are in trouble." Again, the end of her sentence was lost slightly to her exhaustion, but it was followed by the softest whisper of a gentle snore, so I decided against trying to follow it up. Besides, from what I'd gathered, I would only have been asking for 'trouble' anyway. I waited, trying to find the right level on which to appreciate the moment; the fine line between enjoying her closeness and being torn apart by it was always hard to tread.

"Ahh, isn't that sweet?" Pete's half laughing stage whisper interrupted my reverie as he collapsed into the chair the other side of Myka. "You two snuggled up together all cosy like that." I fought the urge to frown at him and hoped the blush I could feel rising on my cheeks was not too obvious. H.G. Wells does not blush; H.G. Wells is all unflappable roguish charm, she is one to make insinuations, not be embarrassed by them. The sassy eyebrow that he raised at me as he passed me my tea and unceremoniously dropped Myka's Twizzlers in her lap did make me wonder, and not for the first time, how much he suspected of my feelings for Myka. The boy was certainly intuitive, his so-called vibes having saved all of us on one occasion or another, but he'd never confronted me about it directly. Nevertheless there were these occasional sassy eyebrows and pointed looks which slightly unnerved me, made me realise that I was in dangerous territory, far too close to asking Myka for that which I desired but did not deserve.

"Oh," Myka jolted awake as the Twizzlers landed in her lap, her hand gripping mine a bit more tightly. "Helena?" her voice was small and confused until I squeezed her hand gently in return, watching her mind catch up with her situation.

"I'm here, darling," I reassured her gently, doing my best to ignore the return of that sassy eyebrow to Pete's face.

"Oh, Twizzlers; yay." The relaxed and almost childlike grin that spread across her face with her remembrance was a glorious sight to behold. "Thanks Pete." She untangled her hand from mine, sitting up to nudge him affectionately with her shoulder as she broke into her treat.

"You're welcome," he mumbled around his mouthful of doughnut.

"Yes," I addressed him, trying not to make at face at his rate of doughnut consumption, "thank you for the tea." I slurped it appreciatively and tried not to miss Myka's hand in mine.

* * *

 

Several hours further north we finally pulled in at the BnB; Myka's nap on the plane had revived her enough to make quick work of the drive back from the airport. The sun had finished creeping over the horizon, its pink tinges fading into bright blue and announcing the arrival of the day.

"It is time for bed!" Pete's weary excitement brought a smile to my face. "Four weeks in Texas is more than plenty for me, thank you very much."

"Agreed," I managed to say before being overcome by a deep yawn, "although perhaps a nice hot  _cleansing_  shower first."

"I think I'm going to stay up for a bit," Myka smiled at my reference but avoided my eyes as she spoke; I was too tired to question it, however, so I turned and trudged up the stairs.

* * *

 

"Helena," her voice was gentle but insistent. "Helena, wake up." There was greater urgency now. "Helena! It's ok, wake up; it's just a dream. Sweetheart, I'm here." I clung to the hand that was gently shaking me, swallowing the scream that threatened to break out again as visions of Myka in Derek's grip, the stone against her neck and a rictus of pain across her face, swam back through my mind, melting and shifting into the scene in Tokyo with her terrified trusting eyes looking up at me from her seat at the chess table, needing me to save her from a bloody fate, changing again to the gravelly gully at Yellowstone, her furious and desperate voice, hands shaking as she pushed a gun into my hand, demanding that I shoot her. "Shh, darling I'm here, it's alright." As I sobbed my relief into my pillow, I briefly wondered at the strangeness of her calling me 'darling'. I began to relax a little, realising that we were indeed both safely back at the B&B, all the artefacts snagged, bagged and tagged; the past was still the past. "Hey," her voice was low and soothing now. "Hey there, look at me."

I found myself curled in a ball at the edge of my bed, Myka's hand clutched between mine under my chin and her huge green eyes staring up at me from where she knelt on the floor. I was so torn between the desire to reach for her and the desire to hide myself away from that glorious purity, that overwhelming goodness, I thought I might burst. Instead, a short sob pushed its way out of me, forcing my eyes to close again as more of those wretched tears broke free to blaze new trails across my already stained face. I heard movement as she began to rise up, and I instinctively gripped her hand tighter before I realised what I was doing and let it go as if burned. To the surprise of my rather tremulous mind, she kept her grip on my hand firm as she chose not to disengage but to in fact climb over me, pulling back the covers until she was in my bed behind me, the hand that held mine moving down to my waist and pulling me firmly backwards until I was pressed flush against her, our fingers laced together across my stomach.

"It's ok," her soft murmur was right against my ear, warm breath skimming down my neck as her hand readjusted to grip me better. "It's alright, sweetheart, you're ok, I'm ok, we're ok." I tried to concentrate on breathing as I felt her nuzzle down into me, her soft lips all but brushing along the sensitive skin behind my ear and down my neck as she moved to press a gentle kiss to my shoulder. I didn't know what to do with myself, so just gave in to the mess of terrified emotions tumbling through me and cried as she held me; overcome by the echoes of fear for her, overcome by tiredness, overcome by the fact that she was holding me to her, her soft strength cocooning me in the warmth and scent of her body.

As we lay there together, my panic-induced exhaustion combined with the stupefying effect of her presence to completely relieve me of my ability to compose myself or rein in the terrors of my mind; an unfortunate side effect of an imagination capable of invention and storytelling is that reliving experiences in one's mind can have near enough as much impact as the original event. I wept and she held me, and I have no idea how long for because at some point I must have fallen asleep, a fairly miraculous event in its own right. I awoke again later, roused by the sound of Pete's heavy tread past my door, and took a moment to marvel at the wondrous thing it is to not wake up terrified, but instead to wake up quietly confused by the presence of heavenly strength and warmth and softness enveloping me. Her grip around my waist tightened as she murmured the gentle murmurs of one returning to the waking world.

"Helena?" Her voice was deep and gritty with sleep as she tugged gently at my hip, encouraging me to shuffle around and face her. She kept her arm securely around me as I turned, her other hand sneaking out from under her pillow to find mine and hold them close to her chest just under her chin. In my newly awakened state, my brain hadn't quite gathered its inhibitions yet so there was no voice loud enough to stop me from stretching my thumb up from where she held it to trace lightly along her jaw. She seemed to realise what I was doing just before I did so a hesitantly, searchingly hopeful smile managed to grace her features before my brain caught up and I froze. Her smile was warm now, and she held my gaze as she pressed a small kiss to the thumb that had dared to venture across her skin. "Hey," she smiled as she tucked my hands back under her chin, the arm around my waist shifting and settling again, holding me snugly to her. "You fell asleep." There was almost a sense of triumph in her tone; she recognised the feat.

"So it would seem." I smiled back, clearing my throat after sleep's neglect. "I," I paused, blinking and hardly able to believe it, "I didn't dream." Her smile only widened, brilliant white teeth showing slightly. "I don't remember the last time I slept,  _actually_  slept, without dreaming."

"You  _actually_  smiled at one point," she was almost smug, conscious perhaps that my sleeping serenity was probably due to her proximity. A blush began to rise prettily across her cheeks almost before I had a chance to raise an eyebrow, my lips quirking into a slight but unstoppable smirk.

"Just how closely were you watching, darling?" I couldn't even attempt to not enjoy her slightly flustered state, that lovely blush travelling down the elegant lines of her throat.

"Just enough to make sure you were ok," her voice was firm, her eyes wide with 'honesty' and the only signs of her slight discomfort were the rosy hues suffusing her skin. I smiled, releasing her from her embarrassment.

"Well for that I am truly grateful." I met her eyes hesitantly before giving in, telling myself I was just following her lead; I brought the hand with which she'd captured both of mine to my lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. I heard her hold and release an uneven breath and prayed I had not misjudged. When I met her eye again, there was such radiant happiness there that I felt hope, that unwelcome and dangerous beast, begin to prowl around in my chest once more. Her thumb caressed along the lines of my palm and I had to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm the riotous havoc her simple actions were wreaking upon my insides.

"You are more than welcome," her voice was soft, those beautiful green orbs full of grace and kindness, imploring me to believe her. Her face became serious again, her eyes dropping before coming back up to search mine. "Is it always that bad when you're dreaming?" I sighed, heavy with knowledge I didn't want her to carry but that I knew she wouldn't let me keep from her.

"I, I don't know really." She cocked her head, not understanding. "I mean it didn't seem much worse than normal from my perspective, but then I don't usually wake you up with my crying, do I? Do I?" I was suddenly afraid that she'd been being even kinder to me than I'd realised.

"No you don't," she hesitated slightly before continuing, "but I wasn't asleep this time. I, um, I was worried that the nightmares might be worse after yesterday and I wanted to be able to be there straight away when you woke up so," another hesitation, "so I was listening out for you." Her face was tinged with trepidation, uncertain as to how I would react to this knowledge. "I, I just didn't want you to hurt any more than I could help it." I blinked, unable to process her words properly, too many different responses fighting for dominance. There was gratitude that she'd been there, wonder that she cared enough to stay awake for me even in our exhaustion, annoyance that she'd deprived herself of much-needed sleep for someone so undeserving, embarrassment that my need for her was so apparent despite my attempts to conceal it, awe at her generosity, her graciousness, her compassion and her wondrous yet somehow unconscious beauty. I felt a treacherous tear sneak past my defences, sliding down my face and forcing me to drop her gaze again. "Hey," she released the hands she'd clasped against her chest, bringing her now free hand to gently wipe away that perfidious droplet. "Hey," she drew the word out, low and soothing, as her hand tracked slowly back along my jaw until she held my chin, lightly pulling up until I met her eye again.

"Thank you," I mumbled, my words threatening to be lost in a tearful mess. "I'm sorry; you shouldn't feel you have to do th-"

"You're not forcing me to do this, Helena," slight exasperation had crept into her tone. "Again, let me state that I am here with you because I want to be. I do not feel under duress, I have not been coerced, the only thing forcing me here is my own desire to be here for you." She sighed gently, making me face her again. "What's it going to take for you to understand that? You know, for someone so remarkably smart, you are a complete dumbass when it comes to the fact that I think you're someone worth caring for and that I want to be the one doing the caring."

"Well," I began after a rather nonplussed pause.

"H.G. Wells at a loss for words?" She raised an eyebrow, smirk firmly in place as she enjoyed the fact that she got to witness me floundering in a way that few people had.

"Never," I rebuffed, my voice as weak and determined as my smile. "I was simply slightly put off by the unexpected appearance of one of the less pleasant modern American colloquialisms in your vernacular. Really, darling? 'Dumbass'?" I felt a grin creep across my face as she was unable to hold back her laughter; whether it was at my English pronunciation of the word or my use of it at all that entertained her, I don't know. As she relaxed down into her pillow, I was reminded forcefully of our current situation by the brush of her long limbs against me as she stretched them out, a tiny, glorious moan escaping her lips, before she released the stretched muscles with a sigh and settled comfortably alongside me again, the arm about my waist keeping me close to her. I felt every place we were touching begin to burn, the sensation at once exhilarating and excruciating, and that familiar ache suddenly became unbearable. "What time is it?" I gently but firmly removed myself from her grip, assuring myself that the disappointment I saw on her face was a figment of my imagination, and sat up, searching for my bedside clock.

"It's almost lunchtime," she sighed as she rolled over onto her back before she also sat up, leaning back against the headboard.

"That explains why I heard Pete going by," I mused aloud, smiling as she chuckled. "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," she stated after another stretch; I managed to not look at her as she did so, well aware that her current attire would do little to hide the way in which such stretching served to highlight the many perfections of her form. "Meet you downstairs in ten minutes? I think I need a shower to wake up first." I nodded my consent and did my best to behave appropriately as she smiled gently at me, pulling me close for one last embrace before dropping a gentle kiss on my forehead and leaving the room. I sat, a little dumbfounded upon my bed, decided to resist the urge to breathe in the scent she had left on my pillow, and then found myself holding said pillow to my face, my reverent grip marking it as sacred. I shook my head at my own foolishness, but realised I shouldn't really have expected anything else; my ability to resist that delicate bouquet, that sweet vanilla mixed with something gloriously and addictively indefinable, was minimal to nonexistent.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I arrived downstairs, washed and dressed, to discover Pete standing over the stove, a piled plate of pancakes to one side, a bowl of mixture to the other, and a pancake in progress in a frying pan.

"Pete, that smells divine; I'm impressed." I wrinkled my nose as my still drowsy brain caught up with its confusion. "Since when were you able to cook?"

"Have a little faith, H.G.; I am a man of many talents," he turned around, grinning at me.

"But why has this talent never before surfaced?" I could distinctly remember him complaining the insufficiency of cereal for breakfast or words to that effect anyway.

"Well," he hummed, "I didn't want to get a rep as Pete-the-pancake-making-guy, 'cause then I'd be left hunched over the cooker every morning and then Myka would buy me a pinny for my birthday and I'd lose some serious man points, but today I just weighed up the pros and cons and decided the time had come and I needed banana walnut pancakes."

"Well if I promise to not buy you a pinny, can I please have some?" Myka's amused but very sincere voice joined the conversation as she came and stood close beside me, the smell of her shampoo even more enticing than the smell of pancakes.

"If that's a serious promise then yes," Pete's earnest expression and Myka's subsequently offered handshake to seal the deal had me closing my eyes and shaking my head, fondly wondering at the childlike solemnity with which such a matter was being discussed.

"Myka is always serious about her promises, Pete," I murmured almost to myself, but he merely grunted, turning back to the pancakes as she met my eye with a warm grin.

"Mmm, Pete, these really are good," Myka murmured as she grabbed a fourth pancake twenty minutes later.

"Indeed," I agreed between mouthfuls. "You know, in some circles, such culinary ability could be counted as evidence to support the increase of one's 'man points', if I am correct in understanding 'man points' to be used mainly as a measure of one's attractiveness to the average heterosexual female?"

"You know, I'm not sure I've ever heard anyone define what man points actually measure, but I guess that's at least a factor..." Pete sounded unconvinced.

"Well," I was determined to make his cooking ability a thing Pete would want to parade in all its glory, "I think you'll struggle to find a woman who wouldn't appreciate such talents in a man." I caught Myka's eye, saw her tiny smirk.

"Yeah," she concurred, 'earnestly', "Pete, you shouldn't hide your lantern under a bushel like this; don't you know that women love men who can cook?"

"Indeed," I continued, "it would be traits such as this which mark you out as different to your Neanderthallic peers."

"I know what you're doing here ladies." I managed to decipher the words through the muffles of masticated pancake. "I refuse to become Pete-the-pancake-making-guy."

"How can you accuse us of any such scheming?" I aimed for innocence, schooling my features to not reveal my distaste for his less than refined table manners.

"We just don't want you to hide part of who you are, Pete," Myka's earnest face was slipping into a smirk and Pete in his fearful suspicion began piling extra pancakes onto his plate, preparing to flee us. "We want you to be able to express yourself properly!" she called after him as he made his escape, a stack of pancakes in one hand, a bottle of syrup in the other, cutlery abandoned. She was practically cackling by the time he was out of earshot and I revelled in the glorious sense of mischief that could be unleashed from one Myka Bering in the right setting. Somehow, mischief from someone usually so appropriate and well behaved seems just entirely superior to mischief from those of us who are more prone to it on a regular basis.

"Poor boy," I joined her laughter, "so insecure!"

"Aren't they all," her laughter slowed as she met my eye, sharing the camaraderie of women who have great experience in the fact that men's insecurities often lead to women being asked to support their enlarged and fragile egos. "But I guess it is only fair for us to do the dishes seeing as he cooked."

"Right you are, darling," I smiled and began to clear the plates. "On a serious note though, those pancakes were delicious; we ought to encourage him to cook more."

"Oh I suspect he probably will," she joined me in my duties, grabbing a dish towel as I started the water running. "I think the reminder that he can actually do it combined with his love of food probably means we'll find pancakes and such things occurring a bit more often, but we'll see. I think letting him come to the conclusion that he likes good food will be easier than trying to persuade him that he likes to cook."

"I shall be guided by your wisdom in this," I agreed solemnly, laughing as she whipped me with her towel. "Now, now, darling, steady on." She laughed back at me, nudging my hips lightly with her own. We finished our chores in companionable silence and I pondered with satisfaction the fact that our silences together could be happily companionable.

"Tea?" she offered, filling the kettle as I dried my hands.

"Oh, yes please, darling; superb suggestion." Mrs. Frederick had given us a couple of days off with firm instructions to recover from our four week spell in the south; I rather think she may have become aware of the toll of emotional stress that the sheer brutality of the case had taken on us all, particularly since the 'bait' plan was suggested. This small holiday did, however, mean that our usual caffeine requirements were significantly reduced compared to the average working day, so the option to indulge in one of those peculiarly relaxing chamomile teas in the middle of the day was there.

"Honey and vanilla?" she asked, smiling as she already knew the answer.

"You know me so well," I sighed my contentment as she turned back to her task. I pulled a tube of schematics from the sideboard and spread them out across the table, weighing down the curling corners to better review the contents.

"Here," she approached with two steaming mugs, offering one to me. "What's all this?"

"You're an angel," I thanked her, taking my first sip of the yellowy liquid. "Claudia asked me to take a look at a project she's working on at the moment; she's a bit concerned that Artie won't allow it, so she's hoping that getting my approval first will help in persuading him that it will at least work."

"Well that sounds a little worrying," she chuckled as she sat down beside me. "Is it another likely-to-explode project?"

"No, no," I joined the chuckling, "nothing on that scale. It's actually a pretty good idea, and I'm surprised it hasn't happened already to be honest, but I can see why she thinks Artie won't be in favour of it: she wants to waterproof the Farnsworths." Myka burst out laughing, the sound tinkling through the air to warm me right through.

"That is brilliant, especially after Pete's little incident," she continued to laugh as I agreed with her, taking a moment to soak in her laughter. A week or so before our trip to Texas, Pete had had an unfortunate moment in which his Farnsworth fell from the back pocket he had temporarily stored it in, into the lavatory. It had not gone down well with Artie or Mrs. Frederick and it had taken Claudia days to get it back to full functionality, at least in part due to her combination of intense disgust and intense amusement.

"Well, quite," I nodded, taking another draught of tea. I ran my eyes across the diagrams Claudia had given me, impressed with what I saw, but noting a few minor adjustments that might be advisable. After a few seconds, I felt her eyes on me and turned slightly, catching her eye before she blushed, looking away and rising from her chair.

"I'll be back in a minute," she almost stumbled on the words but got them out, still not looking me in the face. I stared after her, wondering what had just occurred but glad that her tea was still sat at the table as presumably that meant she would indeed soon be returning. My eyes were drawn back to the schematics laid out before me until a minute or so later when she addressed me from the doorway.

"Is it ok if I just sit with you while you work?" She indicated the chair at which she'd sat before, a book clasped to her chest in the other hand.

"Of course, darling," surprised at the question. "I would like nothing better." She smiled, an almost relieved look flitting across her features as she folded herself down onto the chair again. "What are you reading?" I thought I'd read a few words of the title as she approached but decided I must have misread, it was too peculiar.

"Oh, it's just an old favourite of mine, a bit of a comfort read really.  _The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society_ ," she offered the book for my scrutiny and laughed as confusion blossomed upon my face. "Yeah, it's a weird title I know, but it's a beautiful book. You should read it sometime."

"What even is potato peel pie? And how on earth is it associated with literature?"

"Oh, Helena, your face!" Her laughter fluttered through me again. "You'll just have to read it and find out; I'm not giving you any spoilers." Her laughter continued as my bewilderment increased.

"Spoilers?"

"Yes! You know, when someone tells you what happens in a story before you've got to the end."

"I see, indeed," I agreed, horrified by the idea of disrupting the narrative flow. She grinned, enjoying my shared outrage. I grinned in return, my confusion abated, unable to withstand her. "I will have to read it and you must tell me nothing about it for fear of these dreaded spoilers."

"All I will tell you is that it is beautiful and sad and happy and so full of believably complex characters; you kind of don't want the book to be over when you've finished."

"That is certainly high praise." I smiled, handing the book back to her. I managed to sneak a glance at her from time to time as she read, enjoying the plethora of different emotions that the book played out across her beautiful and expressive face.

"H.G.!" Claudia exploded into the quiet room half an hour or so later. "Great, you're checking the plans; what do you think?" Myka met my eye briefly with a fond smile as we both startled from our activities, before she returned serenely to her book.

"I'd more or less finished actually, my dear, so that was some good timing on your part," I smiled at the young agent as she pulled up another chair next to me and we proceeded to go through the minor adjustments I could suggest.

"Awesome," Claudia's satisfied conclusion made me smile before my breath was unexpectedly knocked from me by her arms having been thrown almost violently around me in a grateful embrace. "Thanks H.G.; I'm gonna get started on drawing up the final plans now then." She smiled as she rose from her seat, rolling up the schematics into their tube and returned whence she came, leaving Myka and I alone at the breakfast table again and my slightly taken aback and winded 'you're welcome' floating unheard after her. I turned back to find Myka's eyes on me again, this time holding my gaze as I found hers.

"Do you even realise quite how much she adores you?" her voice was quiet, her eyes half squinted at me and her head cocked to one side.

"Sorry darling?" I pretended to have missed her words as I reached for my tea, disappointed to find the mug empty.

"You heard me, Helena," her serious tone confirmed my fear that we were heading towards the 'trouble' she'd warned me of at the airport. "You don't even realise a fraction your worth, do you? Not just as a genius writer and inventor, but as a person, as Helena. You refuse to believe that people care about you, that we'd be devastated if we lost you-"

"Darling, really-"

"No, let me speak because you need to hear this." She shut down my interruption firmly, resolutely placing her closed book on the table and turning her body fully towards me. "You know what the worst part of that case down in Texas was for me? It wasn't the fact that it took so long and was really frustrating, it wasn't the fact that I was beginning to wonder if we'd ever find the monster committing the crimes, it wasn't even the very violence of the crime itself or the physical pain I felt when he put the stone against me. You know how much that hurt, but I promise you now, that was not even close to being the worst part about this case-"

"Myka-" I tried to interrupt, because I began to suspect I knew where she was taking her speech and I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it. She proved difficult to interrupt.

"No, Helena, you're not going to shush me; it's not going to work, so don't try. All of that was awful, but what was worse was when you said you had no family to mourn you, that it would be ok if you were killed, when you decided that the world would be better off without you than without me, when you let that, that  _man_  put his hands on you and steal you away and almost rip your organs out from within you-"

"Myka-" my need to interrupt her was now sparked again by the crack that broke its way into her voice.

"It was my idea, Helena! My risk to take!" I was silenced by her raised hand as she looked away, a tear sliding down her cheek. "I can barely function when I think about the fact that you literally died for me once already in a different timeline; how do you think I'd cope if you died in some harebrained scheme that had been my idea in the first place? Do you think I'd actually be able to cope with you being dead at all, let alone dead because of me?"

"Darling-"

"I'm serious, Helena," she shifted agitatedly, her huge eyes spilling over with frustrated tears, the stress and exhaustion of the last four weeks catching up with her again. "You can't just do that and expect me to be ok." She turned her face away, silence echoing around us.

"Myka, darling," I paused, trying to figure out how to proceed appropriately. "We all risk our lives every day in this job; it's what we do, it's who we-"

"I know," she interrupted me quietly, reluctantly admitting the truth but not wanting me to verbalise it. "I know, but this was different. And everything feels different now, more precarious since-" She paused, drying her face with a frustrated swipe of her hand before looking at me. "I think just with everything from the last few months and then the viciousness of this guy and that my plan meant you were going to be so alone with him, so vulnerable – that I could hear when he turned on you but wasn't there to stop him straight away-"

"But you did stop him," I interjected before she could be submerged in more tears again. "You stopped him and you were with me all the time and I wasn't alone-"

"But you were," she burst out. "It was sheer luck that you didn't die! We got there just,  _just_  in the nick of time – if you'd been farther than that 30 miles away we wouldn't have made it, if he hadn't spent so long rambling about trees and the population and all that we wouldn't have made it-"

"Myka-"

"Look, I'm sorry," she cut me off, dropping her feet the floor again and leaning her forearms on her thighs. "I know I'm not exactly expressing this very rationally right now." Her voice dropped as she continued. "I don't think you've quite grasped how difficult you make it for me to be rational in this kind of situation. All I can think about is that if we'd been a minute later we'd have been too late; we'd have found you torn and broken and dead on the ground. You'd be gone, again, and I'd be left behind, again, and you still wouldn't know because you refuse to take a hint and I still hadn't gotten the guts to make you listen to me."

I swallowed, fearful of and hopeful for what I suspected was about to come. She dragged her gaze back to mine, her green eyes shining her goodness and frustration as she searched my face for a response. Suddenly she let out an almost bitter laugh, swiping away her tears and grabbing both of my hands in hers, tugging me round so we were face to face, trapped in the intense circle of each other's focus.

"Even now you're refusing to believe it," her bitter laughter barked out again after her words. "You are a brilliantly intelligent woman, you can't possibly be oblivious to the way I feel about you and yet for some reason you refuse to acknowledge it despite the fact, and Pete assures me that I'm right, that you have at least some kind of similar feeling for me." I suddenly felt rather light headed; this was all moving in a fairly terrifying direction at a very terrifying speed. "I love you, Helena," she stated it as if it was so obvious, as if I had been being purposefully obtuse in not realising it earlier. "As in, I'm in love with you, and I'm fairly certain that I have been more or less from the beginning and that I will continue to be in love with you for the rest of my days." Her eyes bored into me, refusing to let me look away or retreat. "And that means that I will continue to be in love with you even when you're not here, so you going off on some selfishly heroic mission of self-sacrifice really pisses me off because I know from plenty of past experience that you being supposed dead or gone or incorporeal does nothing to erase the fact that I'm in love with you, it just means that I have to live in a state of perpetual broken-heartedness. I've had enough; you need to get over this self-loathing thing you've got going on here because it's stopping you from letting me love you and I'm just about fit to burst with loving you."

I opened my mouth to try and respond but no words came out. Compassion bloomed in her eyes and she slid from her chair to crouch before mine, keeping one of my hands in hers while her other rose up to cup my jaw, gently compelling me to hold her gaze. The pressure of long-suppressed emotions began building up in my chest and in my throat, constricting my attempts to say something, anything. I closed my eyes in defeat as, yet again, I felt tears rise unbidden to my eyes and begin to cascade down my cheeks.

"Helena, please," she breathed my name, emotion cracking her voice as she leant her forehead against my own, the hand that was still with mine twisting to lace our fingers together. "Please let me in."

"Myka, you're already in; that's the problem," I managed to whisper, clutching her hand tighter even as I tried to convince my hand to let it go.

"What do you mean?" she moved back a little, wiping my tears with her free hand before moving it gently up into my hair in a soothing caress.

"I," I paused, tried to look away but she pulled me back again. "You're already so far 'in', but you shouldn't be. You only have to look at my history to know that close association with me is not good for one's health, mental or otherwise. I won't be good for you, Myka. You shouldn't love me; you deserve more."

"Will you please just stop that?" she demanded remonstratively. "I deserve to be with someone who loves me, someone who I love, someone I respect and admire and cherish and want to protect and be protected by. I deserve to be allowed to decide for myself, to fall in love with who I fall in love with. Helena I know you; I know all about your past, about the bad things you've done and the good. For heavens' sake I've been hurt by some of the worst and darkest parts of your history but I understand what drove you there. The fact that you have clawed your way back from that precipice is just one more reason for me to fall in love with you, one more example of the strength of the goodness at your core." She brought her other hand up to my face as well, gently cradling my head in her palms, tenderly claiming my attention. "There is nothing you can say that will convince me to give up on you, Helena; nothing. Don't you think I've tried to talk myself out of this a thousand times for a thousand different reasons? I assure you, I have never had even the slightest bit of success and you won't either."

Her green eyes fluttered across my face, their expressive depths revealing her compassion, her grace and her goodness, her frustration and hurt and anger and even I could not deny any longer the fact that love flowed from them, rushing and spilling over in rivulets and floods, coming to trickle through and batter down the walls I foolishly tried to build against it.

"I love you," I breathed out my admission, surrendering to the weight of the truth and the force of her will, even as the war between my fears and longings intensified, their roaring nearly drowning out the almost disbelieving yet hopeful and delighted exhalation that escaped her. "Myka," I felt dizzy; my safely distanced world had taken such a pummelling, had been so completely destabilised by the unstoppable force that was Myka Bering, that I couldn't form a single coherent thought. I could feel my heart rate increasing as everything around me seemed to blur out of focus.

"Helena?" Her voice was a worried echo, almost as if it had arrived at my ears through water and along a convoluted path of tunnels and wires. "Helena, look at me-" I tried, I really did, but I don't think I succeeded particularly well seeing as I couldn't quite control the backward rolling of my eyes while I passed out.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Something cool and damp was dabbing across my forehead. I heaved my heavy eyelids open and tried to organise the blur of green and brown and pink and red into its true image; it felt familiar and good as it gently pulled my mind back into full consciousness.

"Myka?" My voice was a cracked whisper, but it somehow drew such relieved joy across her face despite its frailty.

"Helena," she abandoned the damp washcloth in favour of gently exploring my face with her fingers, almost as if to reassure herself that I was there. "You had me worried for a moment there." Her fingers continued to travel across my skin but her breathing slowed and she met my eyes with a weak smile.

"What, um, how did I get up here?" My brain was still trying to put together all the pieces, but I was fairly certain we'd been at the breakfast table when I passed out and now I was definitely in my own bedroom, on my bed.

"Pete carried you," she smiled gently, one of her hands now stroking through my hair; I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling close to sensory overload as her soft caresses combined with the scent and sight and sound of her. She didn't even realise the power she had over me. "He came down again for more food just after you passed out on me, managed to stop me panicking enough to persuade me to let him carry you up here instead of me trying."

"Probably for the best," I smiled at the mental image. "I suppose excess upper body strength has its uses." She let out a choked laugh, nodding.

"You can say that again. He's probably downstairs worrying like the secret mother hen that he is," she smiled again, stronger, less afraid. "I didn't tell him about our conversation, exactly, but-"

"He gave you a sassy eyebrow?" She burst into confused laughter.

"What? A sassy eyebrow?"

"Yes!" I protested her confusion; I was certain that if Pete was in the know about her feelings, which he must be if they'd talked about mine, he'd be just as likely to have sent sassy eyebrows her way when the moment called for it as he was to have sent them to me. "He would often raise an eyebrow at me rather pointedly-"

"And sassily?"

"Yes, sassily, whenever he caught me accidentally revealing the strength of my affection for you. Does he not do the same to you?" Her laughter rang around the room as she closed her eyes in remembrance.

"Now that you mention it, he does give me some very sassy eyebrows," she brought her eyes back down to mine, mirth sparkling through them, "and yes, he did when I started floundering in my attempt to explain to him what had happened." She paused a moment, looking down before coming back up to meet my eye. "God only knows how many he sent me when I kept freaking out watching you in the CCTV at the bar." I sighed, unable to meet her eyes for a moment, knowing I'd find that painful and overwhelming love pouring from them again. But I couldn't hide from her for long; she knew now, I'd admitted it to her. I didn't have walls to hide behind anymore because she'd torn them down, so I just gave in to the impulse and reached for her hand. Her skin was soft and warm as I pressed her hand between my own, savouring the moment, savouring the surrender. I brought her hand up, placing a kiss on her knuckles for the second time in 24 hours. I looked back up to find her beaming and damp-eyed.

"I am sorry," I began, still not quite sure how to phrase it. "I'm sorry that I put you through so many 'freak outs'," she smiled at the unfamiliar sound of such words in my mouth, "but, I can't promise I wouldn't do the same thing again next time." She rolled her eyes, about to protest. "Call me selfish if you will, but I would gladly give my life for yours and, just as I am apparently powerless to persuade you not to love me, you are powerless to persuade me against such action."

"Helena Wells, are you trying to ruin my relief that you're conscious by making me mad again?"

"Darling, I'm simply trying to be truthful-"

"Of course-"

There was a knock at the door; again Pete had arrived with a perfectly timed interruption to smother Myka's ire.

"Hey hey hey," came a gentler version of his familiar phrase as he poked his head around the door. "Somebody is definitely back in the conscious world!" He sauntered over and offered me his palm to 'high five', a somewhat peculiar but somehow satisfying custom with which I gingerly complied. "How are you feeling, H.G.? I sensed she was about to start yelling at you again so thought I'd come and save your butt – don't kick her while she's down, Mykes; not cool." Even Myka had relaxed back into a warm smile as he defended me, her hand in mine squeezing gently as she brought it to rest in her lap.

"Thank you, Pete, for my 'butt' and also for carrying me up here – I'm fairly certain that this is more comfortable than the kitchen floor would have been to wake up upon."

"Hey, no problem, glad I could help." Dear boy. "Are you feeling better now though? Do you want me to call Vanessa, get her to check you out?"

"No, thank you, I shall be quite alright, it was simply a, um, a-"

"Call it a shock to the system," Myka rescued me from my dithering incoherence and I smiled my gratitude at her, glad again that my hand was firmly ensconced between two of hers.

"Yes," I agreed, meeting Pete's eye and imploring him not to push further; I wasn't ready yet. "But I shall be quite alright in a jiffy."

"Oh," Pete sniggered, pushing his attempted 'posh Brit' accent hard, "in a jiffy, eh? Well then, that's just spiffing, old chap, wot wot!" Myka smirked, rolling her eyes before meeting mine. I pretended to be affronted for a moment, but soon decided I was too tired.

"I'd stick with your own form of parlance if I were you, Peter; you'll have slightly more chance of making sense to somebody, somewhere." Myka's laugh warmed me, as did the dissolution of Pete's so-called 'injured puppy' look into a full grin.

"Harsh words, H.G., harsh words. Well, do you guys want anything else if you don't want the services of our lovely Dr. Calder?"

"I would perhaps appreciate some water if y-"

"I already got you some earlier," Myka interrupted me, indicating past me to the bedside table.

"Ah yes, thank you darling." I returned my attention to Pete. "Well, in that case, I think I have everything I need; Myka?"

"No, I'm fine; thanks Pete."

"Yes, thank you Pete." He smiled at us both and I felt fairly certain there was a sassy eyebrow hiding in there just beneath the surface of his satisfied grin.

"Well ok then, I'll leave you to it. Holler if you need something though." And he left us alone again.

"Well," I began, "if I'm going to get anywhere near that water without accidently bathing myself in it, I'm going to need to sit up."

"Ok, here," she shuffled where she sat on the bed next to me, releasing my hand so I could use it to push myself up. Both of her arms rose towards me, hovering protectively as if concerned I would collapse again. "You ok?" Her hand found mine again as I leant back against the headboard, closing my eyes to collect myself as my newfound vertical state caused my head to spin slightly.

"Just a little dizzy still," I murmured, closed eyes and rapid breaths.

"It's ok," her voice was low and soothing, her hand travelling up my arm to my shoulder, ready to support me should I fall. "I've got you, just breathe, that's it, slow it down, in through your nose out through your mouth. Do it with me, listen," she kept on her soothing murmurings, encouraging my breathing to slow, to allow my lungs to access the oxygen I was passing through them. Gradually, the nauseating instability began to dissipate from my head, the bright spots of light that had been swimming behind my eyelids faded into the black and serenity returned. I blinked, opening my eyes to her concerned green orbs.

"Hey," she smiled reassuringly at me. "You're ok." She reached across to the table and offered the glass to me. She kept her hand under it as I lifted it to my mouth. "Just a small sip," she instructed gently, "we don't want to shock your system again right now." I couldn't help smirking slightly at her apparent transformation into my nursemaid. "Don't you laugh at me, Helena Wells," came the stern but gentle rebuke. "I'm being perfectly serious."

"As I believe I may have said before," I replied after my 'small sip', aiming for nonchalance but probably missing, "darling, you know I could only ever laugh at you out of the deepest love." She smiled, immediately recognising the allusion, but apparently deciding to continue her scolding anyway. I can't say I minded as I must admit to rather enjoying her scoldings.

"Be that as it may, small sips; I know what I'm talking about." I smiled and acquiesced, taking another small sip before relinquishing the glass back to her, closing my eyes and sinking again into the cushion of the headboard.

"I never quite understood why fainting is so utterly exhausting," I mused as I felt her lean past me to replace the glass on the table, gathering my hand into hers again on her way back. "I mean really, I would think it gave one's body a brief shot at some extra rest, being unconscious as it is."

"Well there's a fair bit more going on, biologically speaking, than you just being unconscious; it's not like you just fell asleep for a few minutes. Your brain wasn't getting enough oxygen and it takes a fair bit of effort to reset that balance, even if you're not consciously aware of that."

"The marvels of medicine," I wondered aloud. "Fascinating." I heard her chuckle lightly beside me so I cracked an eye open to look at her. She met my eye and smiled fondly.

"Well I suppose it may be fascinating on some level, but it didn't take me too long to decide against studying it after a few terms of Pre-Med. Besides, if I'd found it more fascinating, I would have trained to be a doctor, never joined the Secret Service, never been brought to the Warehouse and therefore never met you."

"Well I think we can both agree that it can't be that fascinating then," I smirked my teasing agreement before a slightly more serious thought crossed my mind and escaped before I could assemble the filters to stop it. "I wonder if society as it is today would still exist if we hadn't met, or would I have destroyed it all at Yellowstone with no angel there to stop me." I heard her breathing stop for a second and cursed my foolish and reckless tongue.

"Helena," she sighed gently. "Don't say that; you stopped yourself just as much as I stopped you, you wanted us to come-"

"I know, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" I was desperate to dispel the sadness that had been streaked through her previously playful voice.

"It's ok," she reassured me gently, her hand coming up to cup my jaw, turning my face to meet her gaze. "I believe that you would have stopped regardless of whether or not I was there." I tried to argue, but she wouldn't let me. "No, listen; there were so many signs that you wanted us to stop you even from early on – trust me, I've analysed this many, many times." The smile in her voice encouraged a rather pained one from me. "Think about it; you made so many 'sloppy mistakes' that you would never make unless some part of you wanted to give us clues." She sighed a small sigh, running her fingers up into my hair and drawing them gently through it before reclaiming my hand. "And besides, I feel fairly certain that even if I wasn't a Warehouse agent, we would have met."

"How do you come to that conclusion?" I cocked my head curiously, pulled out of my rather anguished thoughts by her strange suggestion.

"Well," an almost shy smile began to creep across her face, a charming blush rising in her cheeks as she dropped my gaze. "If the Warehouse has taught me anything it's that magic or unknown forces or whatever aren't to be casually dismissed. So, that means that Fate or Destiny might be real too and I just feel like one or both of those are probably involved in the fact that I was introduced to the love of my life, even though she was born over a century before me."

I couldn't think how to respond to such a statement. Such sweet, innocent faith, such trust; she was more bright and beautiful than the sun on its most splendid of days. My body seemed to lose patience with my brain's inability to process the sheer magnitude of the wonder that is Myka Bering and decided to show its adoration without relying, as it always had in prior events, on the words my supposed 'silver tongue' was able to produce. My hand wandered up to drift along the smooth skin of her cheek, marvelling at its silken softness. Some unknown reserves of strength that my body had discovered upon compulsion urged me up, leaning toward her as my hand found purchase just behind her jaw bone. At this slight encouragement, I felt her hesitantly extend her neck, pushing herself closer to me until she gently, ever so gently, was able to rest her forehead against mine, wide green eyes fluttering closed, deep breaths rattling through us both. I felt her lips part, breath now flowing from them to mingle with mine. This was it; this was the moment.

I pressed forward that final inch and almost immediately I could not contain my body's incoherent groan of relief and approval as I finally felt the soft warmth of her mouth on my own and tasted the hitherto unknown bliss of her lips. It was but the briefest of moments, the shortest and sweetest, purest glimpse of heaven and it left me gasping. Her arms came up around me, cradling me to her as she tenderly nudged her nose against mine.

"Are you ok?" her gentle question was breathy; I could feel tension in her arms as she fought to control her voice.

"Yes," the word shook and trembled but I forced it out. "Yes, darling, I-" I took another deep and shuddering breath, my hands roving through her gloriously wild tangle of curls, nudging back against her nose and wanting still to feel closer, wanting to be absorbed into her. "Myka, I love you," I all but hissed through my words, desperation to say them again warring with my current lack of oxygen. Overriding everything was the need to be near her, to feel her around me, to surrender to her. I felt her smile against my cheek and she pulled back just enough to come forward again, pressing another kiss to my lips, extracting more uncontrolled sounds of pure delight from deep within me. She slowly drew my lower lip into her mouth, sucking on it gently and pushing me to the crumbling limits of what I could handle before she released, her strong arms holding me up as I almost completely dissolved against her.

We stayed there for several blissfully long and precarious moments, sat side by side on my bed but twisted into each other, arms entwined around bodies, faces pressed into necks, secure in our somewhat tangled embrace. I was pulled from my surreal reverie by the indescribable sensation of her lips on my skin, drawing a slow and sensual design up the side of my neck as far as my ear. She was gently pushing me backwards until I found myself resting once more against the bed's headboard, her arms supporting my body as she curled herself around me. What little conscious control I'd thought I had of my body deserted me entirely as I felt her teeth gently rake across the sensitive lobe of my ear before she sucked it into her warm mouth. My hands grasped at her, lost in the vast dark sea of her hair as she whispered, "I love you too."

I heard myself whimper slightly and wondered yet again at the pathetic mess which had been rendered from the dashing and roguish H.G. Wells by these earliest attentions of one Myka Bering. In days gone by I would have scoffed at the very possibility of such an effect, so to see it worked out so fully when she had in fact done so little at this juncture was truly terrifying and utterly thrilling. She pulled back gently, one hand coming up to push some of my own errant hair back behind my ears as she looked me in the eye.

"So," she began, an almost sly smile edging onto her face, "if you love me and know that I love you, logic would dictate that, from now on, you have to let me love you and stop all this crap about me deserving more, because you loving me means you want to give me what I want and what I want is you." I blinked.

"Myka, darling, you can't first incapacitate me with your kisses and then expect me to be able to follow your convoluted logic." Her laughter seemed to warm the very air around me and I couldn't hold back a wide smile as she leaned forward again, pressing her lips against mine. She lingered for a moment before I dared to pull her deeper, unwilling yet to relinquish the opportunity to explore those exquisite lips, to taste their firm softness. I felt as much as heard the faint groaning sigh that escaped her as I finally began to release, but how could I keep my resolve against such a gentle battering? I pulled her back in again, revelling in her relief, in her equal desperation for intimacy. I longed to hear her again and was rewarded by a sensually shuddering moan as I slipped my tongue across her lower lip, delicately begging for entrance which she readily granted, welcoming me into the velvet warmth of her mouth with enthusiasm. Here was a whole new world for me to explore and to relish as she pressed her whole body against me.

"There's a pretty large part of me that doesn't believe this is actually happening," she murmured as we broke for air some minutes later, foreheads resting against each other again. "Like it's another fever dream or something."

"How many dreams of this kind do you have, darling?" I had to question with a smirk.

"Oh shush," she swotted me gently, even as she pressed another tantalisingly short, sweet kiss to my lips. "You can't kiss me like that and expect me to believe that thoughts like this never entered into your mind."

"Fair point, darling," I conceded, chuckling lightly and stealing another small kiss before we both sank back against the headboard, hands tangling together and eyes locked. "I must admit to my fair share of 'fevered' imaginings. I will, however, certainly say that none of those multitudinous imagined kisses have ever done justice to reality." The shyly smiling blush that rose across her face in that moment was heartbreakingly beautiful. "Myka," I hesitated, needing a moment to frame my thoughts, "I love you, and clearly there's no point attempting to deny it any longer, but if we're going to go with honesty you ought to know that I'm still, well, terrified." A frown started to furrow across her features so I carried on before she could stop me. "My past still says that bad things tend to happen to those in the unfortunate position of being deeply loved by me, and the thought of something happening to you just-"

"Helena, nothing's going to happen to me-"

"I almost ran away from the Warehouse because of this." Shocked confusion ran across her face.

"What-"

"After everything with the Astrolabe, when the Regents officially released me to rejoin the team, I almost asked instead to be allowed to leave, to never come back; to go and live a life somewhere as Emily Lake. I had it all planned out: a normal life, boring, but safe. I wouldn't be able to hurt anyone anymore; I wouldn't be a danger to you." I felt tears begin to well in my own eyes as I watched water begin to shimmer in hers. "It's rather ironic I suppose that the person I was trying to run away from was also the person I couldn't leave behind." She swallowed hard, looking down before meeting my eye again.

"But you didn't run, you fought that impulse for a reason, because this," she pulled me in again to press a gentle and yet somehow possessive kiss to my lips, "this is too beautiful a thing to run from and you know that on some level." Her eyes searched me out, pools of green fire that burned into me with their inescapable truth, even through her tears. "This is real and it is happening and I refuse to let you be scared away from it. I will fight for you; we can go at your pace, but if any of your so-called 'demons' come to try and talk you out of this, they are going to find themselves faced with a pretty pissed off and territorial me." I had to smile at the mental image and she seemed to relax a little in response to my reluctant amusement.

"Well in that case" I cleared my somewhat tear-clogged throat, "I rather suppose my 'demons' don't have a hope in Hades then do they?" I gave in; I'd laid it all out on the table for her and still her grace was sufficient, still she chose to find the good in me and banish the weak.

"Damn straight," she grinned, gently brushing away an absconded tear and leaning in to reclaim my lips.

* * *

 

 **A/N:** can you tell I'm still smarting from 4.15? *goes to keen quietly in a corner*

 


	7. Chapter 7

"Are you ok?"

I smiled as Myka's arm wrapped itself firmly around my waist, her fingers gripping my hip.

"Yes, darling; the spinning seems to have diminished significantly."

"Ok, well," she smirked slightly, "I'm going to keep hold of you anyway, just in case."

"Good plan," I smirked back at her, enjoying the feeling of her hand on me. "Wouldn't want to risk anything on those stairs, would we?"

"Absolutely not," the smirk broke into a wide grin and she pulled me tighter against her, pressing a quick kiss against my temple before we exited my room on our great quest to the sitting room. It had been a few hours since my fainting spell now and we'd passed the time in the most wonderful fashion: talking honestly with each other, sharing intimacies as yet unreached, exploring some of this new physical dimension to our relationship. However, we both knew we were still too emotionally stressed to throw ourselves into the deep end of said physical dimension straight away, even if our bodies tried to tell us otherwise. We had both in that short time found ourselves clawing at each other for things we desired but knew we weren't ready for, so in order to prevent unwise escalation we had decided to leave the temptation of being alone together on my bed and seek out the 'family friendly zone' (to use Myka's words) of the sitting room.

"H.G.!" a small chorus of welcoming cries drew us as we reached the bottom of the stairs.

"You ok there? Need a hand?" Pete jogged over to offer his services.

"It's ok," Myka waved him off, gripping me tighter, "I've got her." She blushed a little and I spectacularly failed in my attempts to not smirk as Pete's eyebrows rose significantly.

"Yes, thank you Pete; I'm quite alright really. Myka just doesn't quite trust me to stay vertical by myself yet."

"Alrighty then," he grinned at us, the smile only widening as his eyes glanced down to take in the fact that Myka's fingers were laced intimately together with my own where she held my hip. "I think there's a sofa free for the two of you if you want to come and watch me giving Claudia a master class in kicking ass at Mario Kart?"

"Hey!" Claudia's protest met us as we entered the room. "Who's giving who the master class, Lattimer?" She softened as her focus shifted instead to me. "Good to see you up and about, H.G.; you had us all worried for a while there."

"Indeed," Abigail chimed in from her chair, also smiling as her observant eyes took in Myka's hold on me. "I'm glad to see Myka's been taking good care of you." Myka seemed to choke a little on the air.

"Are you alright, darling?" I murmured, rubbing her back gently as she regained her ability to breathe.

"Yes, I'm fine," the amused and flustered expression on her face was ever so endearing. "Just, uh, choking." She wrapped her choke-displaced arm back around my waist, reclaiming my hand as she did so. "Let's grab that sofa." I smiled my assent and allowed her to lead me toward the vacant sofa. I turned a slightly confused face to her as she deposited me there and stood up again; she smiled reassuringly, keeping hold of the hand she'd held. "Anybody for tea? Coffee?"

"Oh yes, darling; that would be divine. Honey and vanilla chamomile, please?"

"Of course," she smiled, squeezing my hand gently before turning an enquiring face to the others.

"I'd love a peppermint tea, thanks Myka," Abigail chuckled as I reflexively made a face. "Yes I know you hate the 'vile substance' H.G., but some of us find it refreshing."

"Yes, well that only speaks to poor taste," I shot back, grinning as Myka gave me a reproving look.

"Cream soda for me," Pete sang out.

"Me too! Oh no you don't-" Claudia leant frantically over, squealing before letting out a yell of triumph matched only by Pete's caw of dismay. "Yahaa!" she cackled, as Pete grumbled about students and teachers and rematches. I felt Myka's eyes on me and met them, sharing a fond smile.

"Ok," she summarised, "two cream sodas, a peppermint, a honey and vanilla and whatever I'm having."

"You need a hand?" Abigail offered, beginning to rise before Myka stopped her.

"No, I'll be fine but thanks." To my surprise, she bent down and pressed a soft kiss to my temple before she strolled off to the kitchen. Abigail, who was sat across from me, raised an eyebrow, her already wide smile widening. I was grateful for a moment that Pete and Claudia were too absorbed in the next race to have noticed.

"What are you reading?" I asked, partly to deflect the coming questions, partly out of curiosity as I noticed the book resting in Abigail's lap.

"Oh," she grinned, recognising the deflection but allowing it. "It's a thriller by Harlen Coben, _Tell No One_. Have you come across any of his books yet?"

"The name isn't familiar." I still found it a strange mixture of frustration and excitement that there were such gaps in my literary knowledge: frustration of ignorance, but excitement of wonders still to be discovered.

"Well I'd definitely recommend it, certainly if you want something so gripping you actually can't put it down the first time you read it, and still struggle to the subsequent times. Have you read any?" She directed this last to Myka as she re-entered the room with two cans of cream soda which she placed on the floor between Pete and Claudia to a chorus of "tha-anks".

"Harlen Coben? Yeah I've read a few; they're good if I'm in the right mood for it. Isn't that the one that had a film made of it?" she'd wandered back toward my sofa but stood behind it, leaning over and threading her fingers through my hair, the soft caresses making me close my eyes for a moment in bewildered delight.

"Yeah," Abigail replied through her gargantuan grin. "It's one of the few films where the book was set in the US but the film is set somewhere else," she shared a chuckle with Myka, but I was still too enraptured by Myka's fingers to understand the joke. "It's in French I think, but then I guess that's not really an issue for you, is it?"

"Not really, no," Myka's voice was warm, and I knew she was smiling. We were all jolted back to the room by the commotion from the floor.

"Wooohoo!" Pete sang out, even as Claudia began to attack him. "And order is restored to the world-"

"I was just about to win and you shot me-"

"Who's the King of Mario Kart? Pete is!"

"You cheating cheater-"

"How is that cheating to use a weapon that I rightfully and skilfully picked up for just that reason?"

"Because I was literally just about to win-"

"Pete's the King!"

"You are going down, Lattimer!" Claudia practically growled as she started chugging her cream soda. "Just give me a minute to rehydrate, thanks Myka by the way-" she turned as she spoke to Myka, but raised a somewhat suspicious eyebrow, taking another draught of her drink as she squinted at us. "My, my; you two are pretty handsy-handsy-touchy-feely today aren't you? Like, more than usual." Myka's hands stilled for a moment but I reached up for one of them which she gave me and the other resumed its movement across my scalp. I tilted my head back to meet her eye and we shared a quick smile and a nod. We had decided to just wait until the appropriate moment to tell everyone, but not to deny any direct questions. It seemed a fairly appropriate moment, and an awkward question to attempt evading.

"Well, darling," I began, searching for the right words, "I suppose that would be considered a fairly accurate observation, Myka's and my own actions being, perhaps, indicative of a shift in the status of our relationship. I was shocked this morning to discover that the height of regard that I hold for Myka is, in fact, reciprocated, and so the emotions that I had long and hopelessly suppressed came spilling out, and I have been thoroughly and repeatedly assured that there is no further need for or advantage in my somewhat instinctual suppression. So, forthwith-"

"We're together now, Claude; together together." I could hear the amusement in Myka's voice as she cut across me.

"Yes," I mumbled, "I suppose that would be a more succinct way of putting it." I leaned back again to meet Myka's eye as she smirked at me, squeezing my hand.

"Holy face-palm!" Claudia's face split into the most joy-filled smile I had seen on her in months. "Dudes!" She seemed somehow at a loss for words to express the elation that was suffusing her face. "This is- This is just-"

"Abigail Cho you owe me fifty bucks!" Pete crowed, putting a hand out with his demand.

"I never agreed to the terms of that bet-"

"Say what?! You can't back out just because-"

"I never bet you anything, I just said I thought it would take another day or two-"

"Same diff-"

"You guys were betting on us?"

"No, Myka, Pete bet on you, I apparently just underestimated your ability to get Miss Stubborn over there to let go of some of that baggage-"

"I beg your pardon! 'Miss Stubborn'? And how do you know I have baggage?"

"Honey, you have to admit to at least a streak of stubbornness in your personality, and everyone has baggage; it doesn't take a psychotherapist to work out that what you've been through will only make it worse, and she's a psychotherapist-"

"Well, when you put it like that-"

"Oh my god that's so cute! She called her 'honey'! Wasn't that just the cutest thing you ever saw?"

"Yeah, that was pretty cute, but I can't admit that without losing some serious man points-"

"Dude, what is your obsession with man points?"

"I don't have an obsession-"

Suddenly, the clamour was interrupted by the clanging of Claudia's Farnsworth.

"Hey, Claude, just could use a little technical input on this one-" Steve's query was cut short by Claudia's high pitched squeal of excitement.

"Steve! You won't believe the most exciting thing that just happened right here like two seconds ago: Mykes and H.G. are together! Like together together! Oh my goodness they are just the cutest thing you ever saw, but how did I not see this coming? I know hindsight is 20:20 and everything, but-"

"Did you really not see it coming? I mean, really really, Claude? My gaydar has been pinging about those two since the first time I saw them together and H.G. wasn't even corporeal then."

"Yeah, well your gaydar is evidently more finely tuned than mine-"

"Darling, what's a 'gaydar'," I whispered to Myka and she suppressed a chuckle.

"Uh, it's, uh, I guess it's like a sixth sense to tell if someone's gay."

"How peculiar," I mused, pondering yet again the perplexing and alien feel of some words in the modern vernacular as Claudia continued to squeal excitedly at Steve until he managed to calm her down enough to distract her with his technical questions.

"Ooh, I think I heard the kettle boil a moment ago," Myka started with remembrance. "I'll be back in a minute." I reluctantly released her hand, my skin tingling for long seconds after she'd left.

"I don't know whether you'll get this cultural reference or not," Pete said, squinting at me, "but, as Myka's best bro, I have to warn you that if you ever hurt her-"

"Don't worry Pete," I smiled gently at him, sensing his awkward seriousness, "I understand perfectly. I think you'll find that that desire to protect the ones you love transcends culture, and I can assure you that I will do everything and anything in my power to make sure that I never hurt her again, that she is never hurt again. And, if I were to fail in this regard, I would gladly welcome the harshest punishment you could ever think to mete out." I was glad when he relaxed back into his bean bag, smiling at me.

"I kinda thought so, but I would be failing in my duties as best bro if I didn't give you the warning." I met his smile with a grin of my own, half surprised at the relief I felt at having received Pete's blessing. I suppose subconsciously I had been concerned about the possibility of the protective nature of Myka's 'best bro' coming out to protest against her union with someone like me, but evidently Pete had schooled himself to forgive and move on better than I would have been able to. I caught Abigail smirking to herself as she observed us and was about to enquire as to what could possibly have entertained her when she was saved by yet another squeal from Claudia.

"Wooah, hold on a minute Steve," she abandoned him to interrogate me. "Your 'shock at discovering Myka's reciprocal regard' this morning, is that what made you pass out? Dude, did you literally swoon? Oh sweet holy motherfrakking cuteness, she made you swoon!?"

"Not exactly, Claude," Myka rescued me from my flustered inability to respond as she returned with a tray of steaming mugs. "I don't have quite that level of charm."

"I don't know, darling," I had to protest Myka's self-effacing ways. "If anyone would ever be able to make me swoon, it would undoubtedly be you." She blushed beautifully and I made a mental note that public declarations of my adoration could evoke such a wondrous result.

"Helena, you're not helping with defusing the Claudia-cuteness bomb right now." Myka's mutter as she handed Abigail her tea brought my attention back to Claudia who was all but bouncing in her bean bag.

"Ah, yes, well," I addressed the young agent, "much as Myka does hold such a sway over me, in this instance it was more the stress of being forced to confront and own up to my feelings." I paused, watching Myka as she approached with our teas. "I've never truly been in love before, so with 150 years worth of emotion in the making, it was apparently all just a bit much for me to process." Myka smiled as she settled beside me on the sofa, her eyes dropping bashfully to consider our free hands as they tangled together in my lap. I turned toward her, bringing our joined hands to my lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles as I met her eyes, wondering again at the beauty within their green depths; so many different shades of green, each one a new and exquisite miracle of loveliness.

"I think I might swoon," Claudia's voice brought me back from my contemplation of the divinity before me to see her gazing up at us, eyes as big and round as a full moon, one hand held to her chest.

"Claude?" Steve's Farnsworthed voice crackled into the room, reclaiming her attention and freeing Myka and I from her intense scrutiny as she returned her focus to him. The interest of everybody in the room drifted away as Claudia left to find her laptop with which to demonstrate something to Steve, while Pete managed to cajole Abigail into joining him for a round of Mario Kart.

"I love you." Myka's soft whisper caressed my ear, bringing my eyes back to her from where they'd been observing Abigail's education into the world of the Wii. I still could not fathom the wondrous reality that I had found myself in, a reality in which Myka Ophelia Bering would say those three soft and small but monumentally significant words to me and further still she would demonstrate their truth for me, leaning in to press those unspeakably lovely lips to mine. She smiled as she slowly pulled away and I marvelled at the glowing happiness on her face; to think that she was glowing so because of me? I watched as she settled back down into the sofa, sipping appreciatively at her tea as she squeezed my hand and turned her attention back to Pete and Abigail's race, calling encouragements to Abigail as she surprised us all with her success.

"Hey, you have definitely done this before," Pete accused, unable to believe he'd lost what he had been sure would be an easy win.

"Of course I have," Abigail looked almost affronted. "Who hasn't played Mario Kart?" I shifted a little uncomfortably, aware of what was coming.

"Helena," Myka's sing-song voice rang out, highlighting my Mario Kart virginity to the room. Pete and Abigail whirled around to stare at us. "Helena has never played Mario Kart before; am I wrong?" She grinned as I glared at her. She knew that the prideful part of me was reluctant to give a public performance of something so totally outside my experience. Not even the endless wonders of Warehouse 12 had anything to vaguely resemble the strange phenomenon of the Wii.

"H.G.!" Pete's excited exclamation doomed me. "You've never played Mario Kart? You've lived here how long and never played Mario Kart?" And then in walked the reason for said doom.

"H.G.'s never played Mario Kart?" Claudia's incredulity almost made the mortification I was sure to endure worth it. "Oh how I have let you down in your cultural re-education! We must make amends, forthwith!" I heard Myka snigger beside me but was uncertain as to whether she was enjoying Claudia's quoted use of the word 'forthwith' or simply the fact that she had engineered this scenario in which I must play Mario Kart, untrained and unprepared; wicked woman. Divinely good and gracious, yes, the absolute love of my life, certainly; wicked, undoubtedly.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"It appears simply to be a matter of hand-eye coordination, darling," I grinned at Claudia's open mouthed, slightly horrified expression. "I guess that and being able to learn what impact one's movement will actually effect on the Kart." I handed her back the controller I had been using to thoroughly trounce each and every one of them at their game. I had raced each of them several times now, easily winning all but the first one in which I had faced Pete and he beat me by less than a second. I had still been learning to adjust to the parameters of movement within the game.

"You must have played before," she protested, "you must have-"

"Nobody's that good first time-" Pete joined her baffled, almost offended contention.

"Is there anything that you're not good at?" Claudia's voice was an almost awed whisper.

"Honestly darling," I smugged, "I don't see what all the fuss is about."

"I think," Myka entered the conversation, her smile proud and a definite spark in her eye, "that my girlfriend here is just a very fast learner," she smirked, meeting my gaze, "a natural with her hands." I tried not to let my increased heart rate become too obvious in this public forum as the look in her eye challenged me to think of some very natural things to do with my hands. My attempts to regain control of myself were not helped by the realisation that she had just referred to me as her girlfriend. Claudia promptly abandoned her arguments in favour of mewling at 'the cuteness of them', but Pete was not so easily put off.

"Oh of course you're going to defend your 'girlfriend', and yes Claude it is cute but you mustn't let them use the cuteness to put us off from the fact that H.G. has definitely played before despite her claims that she hasn't!"

"I have not!" I vowed. "Why on earth would I lie about such a thing? Honestly. And when would I have played before? We haven't exactly been overflowing in free leisure time since I've been corporeal!"

"Baby, they're just jealous," Myka's hand slid soothingly along my arm into my hand, ignoring Claudia's squeak of joy at the use of so sweet an endearment. "Pete has been practicing for many years and you beat him after one race; wounded pride is a vicious beast." Her wicked grin was back, but this time it was joined with mine against the others and broke into a light chuckle as Pete grumbled about beginner's luck.

"I think I have a solution," I began, realising that I had just thought of the balm to every wound Pete had ever endured. "Why don't we telephone those pizza people and have one of those much-beloved 'pizza and movie nights' that everybody so cherishes?"

"Oh H.G. you are a genius," Pete's disgruntlement instantly vanished from his face. "You may occasionally lie about your Wii experience, but that is a prize-winning idea! Claude-"

"Dude, already on it," she answered as she switched on her laptop to find the website. Their ritual arguments over what to get did baffle me somewhat because they always ended up getting the same thing. I sat back in satisfaction as the pizza excitement filled the room, my attention caught by Myka's gentle squeeze of my hand. I looked up to find her gazing at me, her powerfully soft smile reaching right into me and filling me again with wonder and near-disbelieving gratitude that I had been given the love of this woman. She leaned in, making the most of the others' distraction to kiss me soundly; I felt myself about to get lost in it, about to willingly drown myself in the glorious sensation when she pulled back, leaning her forehead against mine and taking a deep, steadying breath.

"Look at you, master peacemaker," she grinned at me. "You'd better be careful or my self control will run out and I'll have to drag you out of here for some serious alone time."

"Darling, that's not much of an incentive to 'be careful' as you put it," I countered, grinning back at her and enjoying the weight of our joined hands playing together in my lap.

"Helena-" she began, her voice all but growling and sending hot spirals through my stomach, but she was cut off by Claudia's loud announcement that the pizza would be with us in twenty minutes.

"What films do we want to watch?" Pete demanded our attention, threatening to throw a cushion at us if we didn't give it to him. "This is an important decision guys; what films?"

"I don't really mind," Myka sighed, leaning her head down on my shoulder and playing with my fingers. "I'll be happy with whatever really."

"Yes," I agreed. "I still haven't really seen enough films to have any strong preferences."

After a debate between Pete, Claudia and Abigail, lasting more or less until the pizza came, they submitted to Claudia's vote to watch  _Heathers_  first and then  _The Princess Bride_. I gather they are both cult sensations and, on reflection, they certainly have the appropriate left-of-centred sense of humour to gather such a fan base. If I'm entirely honest, however, I didn't learn that much about the films from that particular viewing session; I was far too distracted by the overwhelming propinquity of my darling Myka. Even as we ate she would not relinquish contact with me and once we had finished the fun really began.

At first she merely rested her head on my shoulder, hands of course still entwined with mine in my lap. It wasn't long before she quietly asked if I'd mind her stretching out, which of course I did not, so her head with its glorious tangle of curls was resting in my lap, one of her hands on my thigh, drawing tiny, tingling patterns of fire into my skin through the thin material of the lounge pants she had lent to me. Next she pulled my right arm down to rest across her torso, forcing me to concentrate hard on not letting my hand wander inappropriately.

"H.G. will you just spoon her already, because she's not going to stop fidgeting until you do." Pete paused the film and his sassily eyebrowed appeal brought sniggers from Claudia and Abigail and a most splendidly startled blush from Myka.

"Pete!" she hissed at him, only increasing the giggles in the room.

"What?! You know it's true; we all, well possibly not H.G., but everyone else knows that you want to be all snuggled up and wrapped in your woman, don't you? I'm just helping you out!" He barely managed to dodge the pizza crust she threw at him.

"Darling," I used my most soothing voice, "why is he talking about spoons?" My innocent question ramped the giggles up to guffaws, even bringing a reluctant smile to Myka's burning red face.

"He's not, he's talking about spooning." She carried on before I could reiterate my confusion. "It's when two people lie together, one in front of the other, you know, parallel, like two spoons."

"Oh," realisation dawned on me, and I couldn't hold back a grin at the thought of what Pete had suggested. "I see. It sounds like quite a good suggestion actually, darling, even if it did come from Pete."

"Well," she grinned guiltily, "I was kind of planning for it to happen anyway, I was just going to be a bit more subtle than Pete."

"Of course you were," I laughed. "Subtlety isn't exactly his strongest card to play." She laughed with me, ignoring Pete's protesting 'hey!' as he started the film again. At her direction, I swivelled round and leaned back against the armrest, bringing my legs up onto the sofa and holding my breath in surprised anticipation as she parted my knees and settled down between them. I wrapped my arms around her waist, feeling her squirm slightly in pleasure as I held her and she laced her fingers into mine, flat across her stomach. Her head was rested back against my right shoulder, presenting the wondrously soft planes of the left side of her neck close to my face. I couldn't help myself; I stretched forward an inch, my lips drawing across her warm, irresistible skin, powerless to cease their acts of worship.

"We will separate you if you can't keep it family friendly," Pete's warning came as Myka's breathing became a little heavier in her attempts to keep quiet under the assault of my lips on her neck. I felt her tense immediately, but couldn't help delighting in the beautiful blush that flowed across her skin as Claudia sniggered.

"Helena-" Myka's tense whisper was almost pained.

"I shall endeavour to restrain myself," I conceded, "but Pete I'll make no promises. You did, after all, suggest our new seating arrangements and they do lead one to a heightened awareness of all that is divinely and irresistibly beautiful; I cannot pledge any such heroic forbearance." I rebelliously placed one last soft kiss to the base of her neck, enjoying the bashful squirming it induced in my beloved, her hands pulling my arms more tightly across her stomach, as if trying to cage the wild beast within. I looked back up to see Pete glowering at me, sassy eyebrow firmly in place, so I met it with one of my own, holding my ground until his frown broke into a reluctant grin, warmth flooding his gaze as he nodded and allowed the film to recapture his attention. I felt Myka take a deep breath before she turned to me, her embarrassed blush warring with a grin like that of the cat that got the cream.

"Behave," she whispered, playfully glaring at me before she pressed a quick kiss to the corner of my mouth and nestled back down into me. I smiled to myself, having to hold back a laugh of pure wondrous delight at the miraculous situation I had found myself in.

The rest of the evening passed more or less without incident, barring of course the frequent earth shattering realisations I had of quite how precious a gift I had been given, how rare a beauty, how astounding and undeserved a blessing. I made my best attempts to keep these earth shattering moments to myself, but could not always hold back a soft kiss, a loving caress, or a reverent murmur. The ecstatic bliss that I experienced as she would quietly bring one of my hands to her mouth and press her lips to my palm cannot be described, nor the excruciating pleasure as she drew my arms about herself or inscribed feather light patterns with the tips of her fingers along my hands and forearms.

But the film seemed to provide enough distraction for the others to keep these wondrous moments private between my beloved and I. Eventually, however, the second film came to an end and with it came Abigail's yawning suggestion to head for bed.

"A woman with a plan," Claudia yawned her assent as she stretched on her bean bad and began to rise. "Great night, peeps; great idea, H.G."

"Thank you, darling," I smiled, holding Myka close, unwilling to let her go just yet, "but I don't think I can claim too much originality in it."

"It's a classic for a reason," Pete agreed as he rose. "You two are just going to stay there for a while, aren't you," he squinted at Myka and I. "Young love," he sighed theatrically when neither of us deigned to respond.

"I don't quite know that you can call it 'young' when one of the party has been alive in three different centuries, Peter."

"Well I guess that makes you like the worst cradle snatcher ever," he rebuffed me, grinning.

"Pete," Myka's warning voice came out to chase him away.

"Alright, alright, I'll leave you two snuggle bunnies to cuddle it out."

"Snuggle bunnies?" I queried once he'd left.

"Don't ask," she snuffed her amusement. She leaned forward a little but before my mewl of protest could gain too much volume she had shuffled around slightly and settled down again. "I'm not letting you go just yet, in case you were wondering." I met her sly grin with an appreciative one of my own.

"Oh thank goodness," I sighed as she pressed a soft kiss to my lips. "I am definitely not ready to be parted already." She smiled gently, leaning down again for a deeper exploration of my mouth to which I very willingly surrendered.

"I was kind of hoping we could avoid the whole being 'parted' thing altogether for now," she breathed against my skin as I left her mouth to blaze a trail of kisses along her perfect silken jaw line. My mind caught up with what she'd said a few seconds later and I pulled back a little to meet her eye as she hovered over me, a hint of nervousness on her face.

"Darling-"

"I know we said we're not ready for that, but could we just sleep together, as in literally sleep? I don't want you waking up alone and terrified again, please, Helena-"

"Darling, shh, it's ok," I soothed as I saw her distress begin to intensify. "You really don't have to work so hard to persuade me to do something that I already want to do." She stared at me for a moment or two before relief found its way to her face and she relaxed back down to me, her lips seeking mine out, possessive, protective, almost reassuring herself that I was there and hadn't denied her request.

"Thank you," she murmured against me as she eventually pulled back.

"Myka, you really don't need to thank me," I scoffed a little incredulously. "It is far from a hardship for me to contemplate the possibility of going to sleep and then awaking in the presence of my beloved. It is, in fact, quite the opposite." I smiled as she blushed, my fingers reaching up to push a few stray curls that had fallen forward to dangle down above my face back behind her ear. "If I'm a hundred percent honest, I had been weighing up the question of whether or not it would be permissible for me to ask you the very same thing, and not only because of the delight I would take in your company, but also because I have a theory I'd like to test."

"Ok, well to start with, let me just put you straight on the part where of course it's 'permissible' to ask for something from me, particularly when it's something I so clearly want to give, but secondly what's this theory that you've cooked up?" She was smiling fondly as she talked, a slight hint of that delightful scolding tone bringing an answering grin to my lips as she stroked her fingers through my hair.

"Well," I began a little hesitantly, "I just couldn't help but notice that this morning was not only the first time that I can remember waking up not gripped by the terrors of my subconscious, but it was also the first time that I have ever awoken with you, with your arms around me. I just wondered if there could be some kind of causative correlation there."

"Causative correlation?" she grinned at me. "Well, I certainly think we should complete a thorough investigation into your theory." Another sweetly gentle kiss. "I guess the only question that remains now is: your room or mine?"

"Yours," I said firmly, before realising that such certainty would require explanation. Her questioning raised eyebrow proved me right. I mumbled my reason quietly, unable to meet her eye in my embarrassment.

"Sorry, what was that? Did you just say what I think you said?" Her grin was wide with bashful pride.

"Your room smells more like you," I repeated, feeling the blush spread on my face, but enjoying the one on hers too much to worry about it. "It'll be a more effective test on the effect of your presence on my dreaming activity," I protested her laughter, "I'll feel more surrounded by you on every level." Her laughter continued to tinkle above me, her eyes meeting mine as she drew her fingers through my hair and leant down to kiss me.

"You are adorable," she murmured against my lips between kisses, "absolutely adorable." She punctuated each word with another softly slow kiss, delighted laughter still threatening to spill out.

"I am not adorable," I objected weakly as she began to kiss her way along my jaw line. "I am charming and roguish, dashing even, not adorable." I couldn't hold back a grin as I felt her laughter rumble through her.

"H.G. Wells might well be all of those things, but Helena, you are definitely adorable." She made her way back to my mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips before pulling back, smiling softly at me. "You are also H.G. Wells, which is pretty damn sexy," she grinned, kissing me again, "and kind of mind-boggling and liable to turn me into a helpless fan-girl at any moment, not to mention the fact that yes, you're brilliant, charming, roguish and dashing. But," she paused to kiss me again, "right now, you are adorable."

"Well, I don't know what a 'fan-girl' is, but I'm sure you make a very capable one-"

"Oh Helena," she burst out laughing, before kissing me soundly again. "Come on; let's see how steady you are on your feet now and then get to bed." She gently untangled herself from on top of me, ignoring my grumbling protests, and helping me to my feet. She held me upright for a moment, seeking out my eyes as she asked, "Are you ok? Do you feel dizzy at all?"

"No," I blinked, assessing the state of my balance. "I seem to be back to normal, darling, aside from, of course, the fluttering in my stomach from your continued presence." I grinned as she rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

"You're fine," she tried to ignore the lovely blush that was spreading across her features, "come on then." She slipped a hand into mine and we made our way upstairs. I stopped her as she went to lead me into her room.

"Darling, I might suggest a brief separation for changing into our nightclothes?" She grinned, nodding.

"Ok, you go change and I'll see you back here in a few." She kept hold of my hand for another moment, hesitating before pulling me closer and abandoning my hand to cup my jaw as she pressed her lips against mine. She held me there gently for a moment, before a gentle grazing of her teeth against my lower lip caused an irrepressible groan to escape me, at which point she pulled me harder against her before walking forwards until she had me pressed up against a wall. The impact ripped matching guttural groans from us both as the kiss deepened, suddenly frantic with the need to be closer, to have more. I felt her thigh pushing up in between mine and the sharp, hot rush of pleasure jolted me into the realisation that if we didn't slow this down quickly we were in danger of stepping significantly past the line we had drawn. I flipped us around so instead I could hold her to the wall, enjoying the sensation far too much to be able to stop it immediately. I felt her smile against my mouth and couldn't help but make a mental note that she had enjoyed the moment in which I wrested control from her. After a minute or two of relishing this new position, I managed to find the presence of mind to remember what had prompted it and reluctantly attempted to retreat.

"Myka," I paused, intending to catch my breath, but found myself planting a trail of kisses down her neck to her collarbone, feeling her shudder deliciously against me as my teeth grazed the sensitive skin. "Myka, we need to slow this down."

"Yes," she panted, her hands in my hair, holding me in position as I sucked at her pulse point. "Mmhmm, you're right," as she pulled me back up for another searing kiss. We were woken abruptly to the realisation that we were treading dangerously close to the point of no return by her semi-strangled moan as my hands had found their way down to the softly firm, perfectly sculpted wonderland of her backside. She leaned her forehead down against mine, her hands still roaming feverishly through my hair.

"I really ought to move my hands," I murmured, a slight grin forming as I met her eyes.

"Please don't," she grinned back, forcing me to close my eyes as the physical sensation combined with the knowledge of her intense enjoyment nearly overwhelmed me.

"Myka-"

"Just a minute." I grinned as she leaned in again to kiss me delicately, letting her lips linger against my own, gently pushing and pulling at them, causing my hands to reflexively grasp and release in time to the rhythm she set. She breathed in deeply through her nose, before capturing my lips more firmly for a long moment before finally releasing. "I love you," she whispered, meeting my eye as she spoke.

"And I love you," I murmured against her lips as I gave in to the impulse to press one more kiss to her perfect, smiling mouth. I reluctantly began to pull back, my hands slowly releasing their grip on their glorious new acquaintance, much to the disappointment of both Myka and myself.

"Ok," she smiled, her hands finding mine and squeezing gently. "Go, get dressed, get back here. Quickly please." She blushed a little with her demand, and I smiled my understanding, pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles before releasing her hands and turning away. I unashamedly sped through my ablutions and quickly selected some fresh nightclothes, padding back down the corridor and pausing to knock quietly on Myka's door.

"Darling, are you decent?"

"Hang on a sec, yeah, ok, you can come in." I pushed open the door to find her standing by the bed, illuminated by the soft light of her bedside lamp, her expression one of nervous anticipation. I felt my chest swell, caught by the loveliness of Myka Bering in her pure, guileless beauty. She could not have been dressed more simply, her flannel pyjama trousers and the faded grey t-shirt certainly not designed to so entrance the viewer, but I was most certainly entranced. "Helena," she blushed, "you are going to have to stop looking at me like that or we'll find ourselves in trouble again." She smiled gently and held out a hand. Woken from my stupor, I quietly closed the door behind me and moved forward to take her offered hand.

"Sorry darling," I murmured as she pulled back the covers of her bed, ushering me in before joining me there. "I can't help the fact that beauty such as yours demands my attention so fiercely, but I will try not to be rendered quite so useless every time."

"Oh hush," she admonished me, her beautifully bashful smile returning in full force to devastate any attempt I could make to not be entirely and helplessly enraptured. "You don't need to charm me anymore, Helena; I am already 100% charmed."

"Darling, there is no charm in merely stating the absolute truth, and no I am not attempting to 'charm' you again, it's more a case of needing to defend myself from censure of behaviours that I have little to no control over."

She smiled softly, studying my gaze before rolling her eyes and leaning in, kissing me and wrapping her arms around my waist as she pulled me closer. We stayed, kissing gently together for several minutes, being careful not to let the passion overcome us again.

"Darling," I began, hesitantly, as she pulled back. "Myka, I just want to clarify something with this theory test that we're doing tonight." She quirked an eyebrow at me, her hand stroking soothingly along my back as she perhaps sensed my hesitance. "I don't want you to feel pressure about it, or that it's gone wrong if I do have a nightmare or something. I just, I just don't want you to have your hopes higher than-"

"Baby, it's ok," she smiled, reassuring. "I know we can't expect over 100 years of trauma to be wiped clean simply because I'm cuddling you; remember I'm not the one of us with egotistical tendencies-"

"Hey!" I protested, but joined in her laughter.

"But seriously," she carried on after a moment, "honey, I'm not expecting miracles, and I know that you're not, but I still think it's better if I'm here, so I can wake you from a bad dream, so I'm here when you wake up, and who knows, maybe there will be some nights where you don't dream. And besides, I want to cuddle you, so I'm not letting you go now that I've got you here." She smiled, an almost cheeky grin edging onto her face as I met her gaze.

"Well far be it from me to deny you something you want," I smiled back, leaning in, needing to feel those soft and gently possessive lips again. She pulled me deeper in against her before pushing herself forward, rolling up on top of me, her tongue darting out to swipe across my lips. I willingly invited her in, feeling my insides melt as her tongue delved in, duelling deliciously with my own. My hands wandered up into her hair, the swathes of luxuriantly soft, thick curls swallowing them up, engulfing my forearms as I held her close to me. A deep groan rumbled through her as she moved to pull back, but I held fast, loathe to release her yet and sucking at her tongue as it retreated from my mouth.

"Helena," she breathed, hot shards of arousal piercing through my gut at the sound. "How do you do that? Make me feel like I'm on fire but in the best possible way?" I chuckled, revelling in the wonder on her face as she rested above me, regaining her breath and her composure.

"I assure you darling, that it is an entirely mutual experience." I grinned at her as she leaned back down to me; her kisses were gentle and restrained, trying to avoid the hottest flames that threatened to spark up again between us.

"Well fair enough," she conceded eventually, "but we need to both cool it off at some point if we're going to attempt some of this sleep thing." I couldn't help the disappointment that flooded my face. "Don't pout at me like that," she laughed, leaning down to kiss me again. "You're supposed to agree with me that we need to sleep, not encourage me to kiss you again." She kissed me once more anyway before somewhat resolutely pushing herself up and off me. I turned my head to watch her as she shuffled onto her side, facing me, and just couldn't resist lifting my left hand to trace along the smooth and perfect skin of her jaw as she settled by me, her head propped up on her right fist.

"I love you." The words just bubbled up in my chest, unable to be contained a minute longer. She smiled softly at my somewhat random outburst, her free hand coming up to gently clasp the one that was tracing patterns along her flawless jaw, bringing it to her lips for a brief and exquisite moment.

"I love you too," she murmured against my hand, her beautiful olive eyes meeting mine, inviting me to get lost in contemplation of the fathomless depths of their green oceans. But she soon smiled, leaning over again briefly to place one last chaste kiss to my lips before she switched off the bedside lamp and settled down, her head resting in the crook of my shoulder, her left arm wrapped firmly across my waist. I pressed a kiss to her temple, my right arm coming up to settle over hers at my waist. As I lay there, I tried to remember the last time that I had searched for sleep without the awful certainty that horrors awaited me there, but I drew a blank. "Goodnight, Helena," she mumbled against my collarbone.

"Goodnight, love," I murmured my reply, wondering what the night would bring; my angel was wrapped around me, but I had demons trapped within.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I felt like I was moving very slowly, too slowly. My limbs felt heavy and ungainly as I moved to intercept the intruders. I tried to swing my arm up to block an attack but where I was used to lithe and graceful strength there was only a weak and slightly stubby appendage available. I tried to understand what had happened as I was knocked helplessly to the floor, my confusion warring with the absolute and utter desperation to hold back these trespassers, these dangerous predators. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a glass and it all fell back into place: this was not my body, it was Sophy's. Sophy did not have years of training behind her, no long-embedded muscle memory from hours of practicing Kempo was available.

I scrambled to my feet, barrelling after the men who were ransacking the house, realising that every step they took brought them closer to my treasure, to my precious darling child. I had to stop them, I had to. Why would these damn legs not move faster? Why, good god, why must I feel exhausted and out of breath when I had made it up barely half a staircase? I could see them, the beasts, spreading out across the first floor landing, searching room to room, careless and carefree; they were enjoying this, they knew I could not harm them in my current form. If only I had my own body with which to strike fear in their hearts and pain in their bodies. Still, they had not reached the next staircase yet.

I huffed and wheezed my inelegant way to the top of the stairs and pushed this failing body hard to get to the next flight. I managed to make it before any of them deigned to notice my efforts, but all that mattered now was getting to the top, reaching my darling one. I heaved myself up, staggering through, feeling not only the ache in my bones but a dizzying trickle of blood down the side of my head where I had been struck. Poor Sophy, but how I wished she were not so old nor so out of condition.

"What is she rushing to?" I heard one of them calling behind me.

"Maybe a family treasure?" Another replied, and I cursed my lack of thought and the lack of stealth that such a body as this could boast. I heard the thunder of footsteps on the stairs behind me and felt fear crush my lungs as, throwing a glance over my shoulder, I saw three of them fast approaching. I tried to block their path, to throw them back, but was almost easily swept aside; even the Kempo that I fought with was insufficient to aid these weak and puny limbs. They crashed through the doorway and I saw her, cowering in her sick bed, hiding behind her pillow.

"Sophy?" she cried, wrenching at my heart with her fear. I forced my borrowed body to obey me and threw it through the open door, calling her name and whirling into the room, measly fists flailing in my desperation. I leapt on one of them as he approached my darling girl, tearing at his hair, scratching at his face, trying to find the strength to bring him down but instead finding myself easily and contemptuously flung back against the wall.

"Sophy!" I heard her cry again, and my heart was wrenched all over again as I caught a look of righteous fury cross her face as she jumped up, swinging her little fist, fiercely hurling her treasured marbles at the man who had dared to attack her much beloved housekeeper. I watched frozen in horror as I saw the man turn back to her, irritated by this ineffectual pelting of marbles, the snarl on his face only making my dear one more determined to fight him off. She threw herself at him and I swear that time slowed to a grinding and grating adagio, all hints of warmth and colour were sucked from the world and my heart and soul were engulfed in icy flames.

His hand swiped at her, one colossal backhanded blow.

Her tiny body crashed against the wall.

There was no scream, only a sharp crack and then she was deafeningly silent.

Her eyes glazed over almost immediately, staring up to some corner of the ceiling as her last marble fell from her hand and blood began to drip from her mouth.

I tried to rise, to go to her, to somehow fix what had been broken, somehow believing that if I could hold her and call her name she would hear me, but even that was torn from me as the man who had just snuffed out the brightest light in the universe turned toward me, a grin breaking out on his features as he advanced.

"She's dead," he crowed, "she's dead because you failed her." He lashed out at me and my infuriatingly slow reflexes betrayed me again, leaving me prone on the floor as he crouched down over me, lowering his body on top of mine, trapping me underneath. "She's dead because of you, because you left her, and now she'll never get to grow, never get to develop, never get to see that glorious future that you always speak so highly of. She will just get the cold and the darkness of the grave, because that's where you sent her." I tried to push him off, scrabbling against him, against the floor, managing to twist my neck around so I could see her, still lying broken against the wall. A red puddle had formed under her still-dripping mouth. "She's dead." He practically sang the words, forcing me down, holding me back. "She's dead, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead-"

"Helena!"

I fought desperately against the hands that held me. I needed to get to her, to fix her or die trying. I needed my baby and she needed her absent mummy. I couldn't allow these hands to hold me back.

"Helena!"

They were strong, these hands, long fingers wrapped around my wrists, holding my arms into my chest as I thrashed and cried.

"Helena, please, sweetheart!"

The pleading note caught at my ear, jarring against the violence of my struggle.

"Baby, you're dreaming, come back to me."

I realised that, though the grip on my wrists was strong, it was gentle; the fingers clasped around me were careful not to dig into my skin, careful to hold my arms safely, not in the painful lock grip I would expect from an adversary. I hesitated, recognising the soft sweet scent and the soft sweet voice that now called to me. I hauled open my eyes to a tear-blurred world, and choking, racking sobs raking through my chest.

"Helena?"

I blinked, trying to find clarity again after the mess of tears and nightmares, wading through to find reality again. Reality meant that I was back in my body, it was the 21st century, I was in South Dakota. Christina had been dead for over a hundred years. Myka was hovering over me, her beautiful green eyes seeking mine out to pour her scalding, soothing love over my now-gaping wounds.

"Myka?" my voice cracked and crumbled with fresh tears as I sought reassurance, sought confirmation that she was there, that she was real and not another figment of my tormented mind.

"Baby, it's ok," she murmured, releasing my wrists and engulfing me in her embrace as I tried to somehow fold myself into her, burrowing closer to my source of hope. "I've got you." Her soft voice and soothing whispers continued as she held me, her arms tight about me, hands drawing soothing patterns up and down my back and sides. I buried my face in her chest, absorbing her warmth, inhaling her scent, allowing myself to soak in her strength and comfort. Images from my dream flashed through my mind, ripping fresh cries from me, but Myka only held me tighter, wrapping her whole self around me. She cocooned me in the safety of her body as I fell apart, giving me the time and the strength and the incentive to pull myself back together.

Eventually, I managed to find my way back to my life in the present, to the fact that I was loved and in love, that I was held in the best and safest place in the world, in the arms of my beloved.

"Hey," her voice was so quiet, I almost didn't hear it; it would not have woken a sleeper. I lifted my head, my breathing now back to normal, and my eyes, though still tacky from tears already shed, now clear of any more. "Hey," she repeated more firmly, no longer careful of waking me. She met my gaze with a small, achingly compassionate smile, one hand coming up to brush my hair behind my ears, gently wiping my face clear of tear tracks, lingering to trace a tender thumb across my lower lip. I tried to push my mouth into a smile, but knew it was not a convincing effort when I saw her almost wince. Her thumb drifted back across my lips before she leaned down, capturing me with a gentle kiss. I clung to her, fisting the soft material of her t-shirt as she demonstrated very clearly that I was safe and that there was goodness in the world and that a large portion of the world's goodness had been marked out for me in the form of one Myka Ophelia Bering.

"I love you," I mumbled against her lips as she pulled back just enough to meet my eye, close enough that I could still taste her with every breath. I felt as much as saw her smile gently, pressing in again with another soft kiss, her arms and legs around my waist, pulling me even closer in. I inhaled deeply through my nose, needing oxygen to sustain the kiss, revelling in the warm scent of her all around me.

"And I love you," she echoed my response from earlier in the night, smiling and nuzzling against me as she held me close. I smiled back, unable to withstand her beautiful assault and this time my genuine smile only increased hers until she pulled me in to reclaim my lips. Something about the way Myka kissed me always seemed to remind me that I was entirely hers; she would tenderly and lovingly stamp her possession of me every time, the strength of that possession shining through no matter how gentle her caress.

"What time is it?" I wondered, my eyes darting to the alarm clock on the bedside table behind her. "07.40? That's a fair advance on my usual time; we must have slept for at least seven hours." She smiled at the awed expression which, no doubt, had spread across my face.

"You slept for exactly seven hours and twenty three minutes, to be precise," she grinned, stretching her limbs but somehow keeping them around me. "I may have made a mental note of the time when you fell asleep," she murmured through her stretch.

"And the time I woke up?"

"Well," a slight shadow flitted across the smile on her face, "the time I woke up, which was a few minutes before you did." I nodded my understanding; my dreaming struggle must have been communicated to the world.

"I'm sorry, love," I began. "Are you alright? Did I hit you at-"

"Hey," she interrupted firmly, squeezing me tight against her for a moment, "I'm fine. I'm just proud of you, getting to sleep so quickly, staying asleep so long. I know that's not the usual pattern." I smiled, unable to hold back the finger that itched to travel along the perfect skin of her jaw.

"Well, much as I would love to bask in any praise you wish to bestow upon me, I don't think I can really claim any credit in it; I think we can fairly safely say that any and all achievement belongs to you, my dear."

"We'll call it a joint effort," she closed her eyes as she stretched again, but almost purred in pleasure as I pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her exposed neck. Her hands ran up my back into my hair, cupping the nape of my neck and holding me in place as I worshipped her sensitive skin. The scent of her surrounding me, the taste of her on my tongue, the sound of her groaning and slowly writhing, her long limbs still wrapped around me, as I kissed my way up her neck was enough for now. It was enough to fully remind me that I had found my Heaven on Earth and that I need not relive the nightmares of the past when the glorious dream of the present was here for the taking.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Pete," I began, smiling to see him whipping up some pancake mixture as I entered the kitchen.

"H.G.," he grinned a greeting. "You and Mykes have some fun last night?" I tried not to glare too harshly at his salacious smirk.

"We slept very well, thank you."

"Ah, of course, it was the sleeping that caused you to be bumping against the wall of my room before you'd even gotten through Myka's door." I refused to rise to the bait. "Where is your lady love, anyway?"

"She's in the shower-"

"You didn't want to join her?"

"Peter," I put as much of a warning tone in my voice as I could whilst trying not to think too hard about Myka in the shower and the possibility of joining her there. I was also tempered by the fact that I needed to ask him a favour. "I actually wanted to make the most of her absence to ask for some advice from you."

"The great H.G. Wells coming to me for advice? What has the world come to-"

"Pete!"

"Ok, ok!" he chuckled, raising his hands in supplication. "What's the sitch?"

"Well, I," this was a little embarrassing for me to admit, "I just wanted to run a few courtship ideas past you before I put them into practice; I think I've done enough research to be culturally relevant, but I just, well, I wanted to make sure."

"Courtship? Well to start with, it's generally called dating now- Scratch that," he rolled his eyes. "Mykes would probably go all squirmy and googly eyed if you talk about 'courting' her. Ok well, hit me, what's the plan?"

"Well," I began, a little uncertainly, "I understand that a 'first date' is usually supposed to be an outing for coffee?"

"Ah, well, usually that is the case, but you guys have gone about this whole thing kinda backwards." I raised a questioning eyebrow. "The coffee date is a 'get-to-know-you' kinda deal; you guys already know each other, you've already used the 'l-word' – and no I don't mean 'lesbian' or even 'lesbians'. Man, that reference was so wasted on you; where's Claudia when you need her?"

"Fear not," I smiled, "that was from the film about the boy fighting off some 'evil exes', was it not? Scott Pilgrim?"

"H.G.!" he cried, joy flooding his face. "I feel like a proud mama." His eyes widened as he realised his word choice. "Papa! Papa; I feel like a proud papa!" I smirked but said nothing; he was after all offering me his assistance in a relatively delicate matter.

"Ok, so if not coffee, it's dinner? That is the next step, yes?"

"Yep, that's the classic, you just have to make sure you take her somewhere that suits you both; chicks dig it when you actually think about where you're taking them, especially on a first date."

"Chicks dig?"

"Women like," he sighed. "Women like it if you're a bit more specific and relevant to the two of you." I pondered this for a moment.

"So for-"

"Morning," my love sauntered into the kitchen, bright eyed and smelling delicious as she stood beside me, her hand sliding into mine. "Mmm, pancakes again, yay. Can we make this 'pancakes for no pinny' deal a recurring one please?" I felt my chest swell, yet again; I was utterly charmed by the winning smile she was throwing at her all-but-brother.

"Oh I suppose so," Pete sighed dramatically, "but only when I happen to be making masses of pancakes anyway, I am not Pete-the-"

"Yes, we know," she interrupted him, grinning "you're not Pete-the-pancake-making-guy."

"Alright then," he nodded, satisfied. "I shall make beautiful, beautiful pancakes."

Once we'd finished eating, Myka rose to begin clearing the dishes and, as she turned away, Pete caught my eye, giving me a comically obvious wink and a so-called 'thumbs up'.

"Ok, well the rules state that if you cook you don't have to clean, so I'll just leave you ladies to it," and he all but bounced out of the room.

"It is the rule," I murmured my agreement, picking up the syrup bottles and returning them to the cupboard before fetching a dish towel and joining Myka by the sink.

"Hey," she nudged me with her hip, bringing my eyes from the drying dishes to her face. She leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to my lips, making me smile and relieving a few of the nerves that I hadn't even realised I'd been feeling. How ridiculous to feel nervous about asking Myka on a 'date' when she had already so clearly stated and demonstrated her love; it is certainly true that fear and logic don't always run together. I smiled at her warmly as she pulled back, meeting her questioning eyes. "You got a bit of a serious look on your face for a moment there; everything ok?"

"Yes, darling, everything's perfect; there's just something I'm perhaps a little bit nervous of doing that I mean to do this morning, so I guess I may have been contemplating the best way to go about it."

"Oh?" Concern flashed slightly in her eyes. "What are you nervous of?" I smiled reassuringly.

"I was, well, I was merely wondering how best to proceed in the courtship of my beloved," I smiled, watching as Pete's prediction of 'squirmy and googly eyed' was sweetly played out before me. "But I suppose," I carried on, "the cat is somewhat out of the bag at this stage, so all that now remains is to enquire as to whether or not you would do me the honour of joining me for dinner this evening?"

"Are you asking me on a date?" Her voice was almost a little incredulous.

"Yes, I believe that is the modern terminology."

"You remember the bit yesterday when I said you're adorable and you protested that you're not? You are shooting your argument massively in the foot right now, just so you know." She'd been hurriedly drying her hands on my dish towel as she spoke and, having finished, pushed her now-dry hands into my hair, bringing me in closely for a deep and searching kiss. I felt her tongue immediately probing along my lips, demanding entrance which I readily granted. She pushed against me until I was happily trapped between her and the kitchen counter, her hands roaming dangerously southwards as I buried mine in her hair. I couldn't hold in the guttural groan as she swept her palms firmly across my backside but then squeaked in surprise as her hands continued lower, gripping my thighs and lifting me up onto the countertop. She pressed forward further still and I welcomed her closer in, gripping her waist with my thighs and wondering at this new experience of leaning down to her.

"Woah! Woah woah woah! Eyah!" We crashed back down to earth as Claudia's voice rang across the kitchen. "Ok, I think I've been blinded; please tell me everybody is still fully clothed?" We froze, meeting each other's eyes as mortified horror blossomed on Myka's face, and I suspect some amusement found its way onto mine.

"Um, oh my God, um, God, sorry Claude," Myka began, pulling back from me enough to turn around, but keeping one hand on my thigh behind her; evidently her mortification was not enough to pull her away completely. "We got a bit carried away."

"She's very strong," I added, unable to resist, and just barely holding in my laughter as Claudia's eyes widened and I felt Myka squeeze my thigh reprovingly.

"Yes, well," Myka tried to fill the yawning silence as Claudia stared. "We were just going to finish the washing up, weren't we, Helena?" She turned around, offering me a hand to help me down from the counter; I could see she wanted to be furious with me for finding the situation humorous but couldn't hide her own amusement sufficiently to be convincing.

"Yep," Claudia was still rather wide eyed even as her sarcasm returned to her, "that is clearly what you two were planning to do right now."

"But it truly was what we were planning, darling," I smirked at her as Myka and I returned to the sink, "we simply got distracted as the opportunity for distraction presented itself."

"I don't even want to know, dude; Pete may grill you on the details but I'm going to just stick my fingers in my ears if you get too 'distracted'." I tried not to enjoy the bright red blush on Myka's neck too much, though it was even harder to do so when Claudia caught my eye, evidently having also noticed Myka's blush and grinned wickedly. "Myka, you realise you can't blush like that every time? You're just going to make it way too much fun to tease you and it looks like H.G. isn't going to be all that much help either-"

"I am not blushing!" She protested, the rosy glow suffusing her skin betraying her. "It's just a little warm in here-"

"Warm?" Claudia cackled. "You mean hot and steamy-" she suddenly cringed, turning away. "No, it's too soon; I'm grossing myself out. I'm not Pete yet!" She was still laughing as she tried to drink the glass of juice she'd gotten herself and nearly ended up choking on it.

"There, there, dear," I soothed, patting her on the back. "I don't intend any cessation in our susceptibility to 'distraction' as we seem to be calling it, so you should have plenty of time to adjust."

"Helena!" Myka hissed at me, though her anger was belied by the grin she couldn't quite remove from her face.

"Sorry, darling," I demurred, "I'll behave." Claudia scoffed behind us, so I sent her a mock-glare to show my sincerity. "Righty-ho; back to work."

* * *

 

"Hey," Myka greeted me as I joined her in the sitting room (I had been performing my monthly ritual hair wash using unicorn tears and dragon blood; I do like to keep it shiny*).

"Hello, darling. Good book?"

"Strange book. It's Kurt Vonnegut, it's always strange." I nodded, making a mental note to add Kurt Vonnegut to my 'to-read' list; I've always found strangeness rather appealing. "So," she continued as I sank into the sofa beside her, "where are we going for dinner? There aren't exactly many nice places to go in Univille."

"Indeed," I chuckled. "I had originally thought to take you out to dine, to take you to some elegant restaurant as the perfect excuse to see you in one of those exquisite gowns I've seen in your wardrobe but never actually on you."

Myka let out a slightly embarrassed laugh as she replied, "Those dresses don't really ever see the light of day anymore; not that they ever really did."

"Why not? You shouldn-"

"Oh come on!" she interrupted me, laughing still. "When would I wear one of those things? They're hardly made for practicality! I mean, the purple one was my bridesmaid's dress for Tracy's wedding, the blue one was for my high school reunion, the black one was- God I can't even remember what I got the black one for-"

"Well, I am still determined; I shall see you in one."

"I," she hesitated, ducking her head with inconceivably endearing shyness; I felt my chest tighten and expand simultaneously as she continued in a haltingly hushed voice, "I imagine that could be arranged, i-if you really want."

"I want," I lowered my voice to match her muted tones and leaned in to place a soft kiss on her lips. "I really, really do." She smiled one of those Myka Bering smiles to entrance the soul, shining with her incredulous grace and unassuming beauty. Breathtaking.

"But that still doesn't answer my question: where are we going?"

"Am I not allowed to keep a sense of mystery until the time arrives?"

A soft smile curved the corners of her mouth as she leaned forward, pressing her lips to mine. "Again with the adorableness; I don't know how you can even attempt to deny it." As she laid her head on my shoulder, her fingers gently intertwining with mine in my lap, I felt again that intense pressure in my chest, the inescapable delight of wondrous, nigh on disbelieving joy. "But you have to give me at least some kind of clue, for the sake of dress codes if nothing else."

"Well, in that case," I mused, "I might allow myself to try and persuade you to wear one of your gowns without really giving away too much of my plan-"

"Helena, I don't want to be overdressed. I can't think of anywhere to go in Univille that I wouldn't feel overdressed in one of those-"

"Trust me, darling, you will not be overdressed and I swear I will do my utmost to rustle up something for myself to match you. Please?" I threw every ounce of persuasive power that I could dredge up into my voice and look as she contemplated my request, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised in scepticism.

"Ok," she conceded. "I suppose I did just say that could be arranged."

"Marvellous," I murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple as she settled back down against me.

* * *

 

"Pete, where are we? Can I please take this blindfold off now? I feel a little ridiculous."

Even as she protested, I could hear the smile in Myka's voice as it drifted towards me.

"Nearly there, Mykes; jeez, H.G. totally owes me one for putting up with all the whining." There was a slight pause. "Hey! Enough with the violence, already!"

I couldn't hold in a chuckle at the familiar sounds of Pete and Myka's sibling bickering.

"Helena, is that you?" Myka's sharp ears detected me just before they appeared in the doorway. I struggled to find my voice as I tried to process the vision that was Myka Bering tightly wrapped in a red dress, her long legs made longer by the three inch heels she wore, her beautiful curls tumbling around her shoulders and only slightly restricted by the black silk scarf I had left with Pete for a blindfold.

"Yes, darling," I cleared my throat, trying to find my composure. "It's me."

"Well, I guess I'll leave you ladies to it," Pete grinned at me.

"Thank you, Pete," I said as I moved towards them, warmth rocketing through me as I gently took Myka's searching hand. "I do indeed owe you one; in fact I owe you many."

"Well, alright then," he nodded, "just take care of her and we'll call it quits." His smile widened and he winked at me as he turned and left.

"Helena?" Myka's soft and smiling voice came out again. "Any chance we can lose the blindfold now?"

"Yes, darling, of course." I reached up to untie the scarf, a jolt of heat making my stomach muscles quiver as her still-blind hand sought me out, resting on my waist as she waited. "There you are," I smiled as I uncovered her eyes, watching them as they darted around the room, her smile instantly widening in recognition before she returned her gaze to me. I felt that heat in my stomach begin to burn hotter as she allowed her eyes to rake up and down me; the salacity in her look told me that my attire did not disappoint.

"We're in the Warehouse library?" She spoke softly, clearing her throat as she resumed her survey of the room, her hand finding mine and drawing my arm about her waist as she slowly pivoted. "Helena, how on earth did you manage all of this?" She gestured around the hall, her eyes dancing from one row of ancient texts to the next, taking in the candles and flowers dotted across shelves and along window ledges, and coming to rest on the small table set for two in the central circle of the hall.

"Well, I had some help," I admitted, enjoying her wide eyed gaze. "Claudia helped me set the candles up safely while Abigail distributed the flowers which I got this morning from the shop in town which Artie recommended. And I asked Pete to keep you out of the house while Artie helped me prepare our meal." She continued her leisurely review until she'd made the full circle in my arms and her shining green eyes met mine, full and bright with life and excited wonderment.

"You even managed to persuade Artie to help you?" Her amazement at this could not but result in laughter for us both.

"Yes, even Artie," I smiled as the laughter softened. "Even he could not deny me, hell bent as I was on getting this right."

"Well it's perfect," she met my eyes again, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. "Thank you."

I smiled, pulling her close again, unable to resist the draw of her red lips and her willing surrender to my ministrations.

"Well, you are perfect," I murmured, my chest tight as I rested my forehead against hers, "so it seems appropriate to at least attempt to match it." She blushed and smiled, pulling me in for further demonstration of her love. In that moment I was struck, not for the first and certainly not for the last time, by my wondrous good fortune. As Myka kissed me, her soft, warm strength wrapping around me, her heavenly sweet scent surrounding me, and her Aphroditean beauty under my hands, I was overwhelmed by the near impossible perfection of it all. I was overwhelmed by the vast extremities of good and bad that I had experienced in my life; that such perfection as this could exist in a life which had included the devastations of my past is utterly mind-blowing. I could feel this lightness in my chest, this fire in the scarred and battered organ of my heart and was simply astounded that where before had been such darkness and despair, now reigned hope and joy and love and excitement for the present as well as the future. I could scarce believe that such complete reversal, such inversion, could have been achieved, that the presence in my life of this woman in my arms could wreak such glorious havoc with my demons, unseating them and starting me on my road to freedom. She would be my light and my guide in even the darkest of places and nothing would take her from me.

* * *

 

**A/N:**  Hey guys, so there you have it :) I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. I hope the end wasn't too abrupt - I hate writing endings but it has be done at some point. Leave a review, let me know what you liked and what needs improving. Thanks for reading!

Oh, and if the reference here* didn't make any sense to you, then you really need to read that interview because it's glorious. Go to http://www.afterellen.com/exclusive-jaime-murray-and-joanne-kelly-talk-warehouse-13-bering-and-wells-and-nerdsbians/04/2013/    Trust me, you want to read it! Enjoy! :)

 


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